Heat wave
by jelenamichel
Summary: What was it they said about excessive heat having an effect on a person's ability to think clearly? A heat wave in DC brings the tension between two agents to boiling point. TIVA fluff piece. **Final chapter now up - take note of the new rating.**
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm going to regret posting this now, I just know it. This thing has absolutely kicked my butt, and I am currently stuck on chapter five. Seriously stuck. I'm hoping that posting will light a fire of inspiration under me, but I just know I'm setting myself up for anguish later. Please be patient with me. I've done so many rewrites and this is about the fifth version in six months. What I'm trying to say is that I'm a bit nervous about this one.  
Rating is for adult themes and maybe some coarse language. I'm going for slow burn hot, rather than in-your-face smut. And there's a vague case plot as well. (If you squint.)  
Set out of current cannon.**

**Disclaimer: Just taking them out to show them a good time. I'll return them to their rightful owners soon.**

* * *

Late on a Saturday morning in early August, Ziva David stepped out of the air-conditioned comfort of her Mini Cooper and into the record-breaking heat of the day. It was the kind of day that sucked the energy and common sense out of a person, where crimes of passion skyrocketed and every pool in the Capitol region was crammed to capacity with heat-ravaged bodies. The news was reporting over 15 heat-related deaths since Monday, and serious-looking reporters with painted on makeup and hair that didn't move solemnly delivered the news that this hell on earth was unlikely to end for another few days at least.

The heat wave hadn't bothered Ziva too much until Thursday, when her air conditioner at home broke and she was forced to spend the night wiping herself down with a cool, wet towel to find any relief. By Friday morning she, Tony and McGee had started having their conversations down in the morgue. By Friday afternoon Ducky had kicked them out, and they took laptops, case files and Slushies down to the shower room. Gibbs had remained in the bullpen, stubbornly wearing his trademark sports coat and drinking piping hot coffee. Ziva supposed he had an image to protect. Either that, or Abby and Tony's theory that he was formed from carbon steel was correct.

Although Saturday was supposed to be the team's day off, Ziva had to admit to being at least a little relieved when Gibbs had called and told her the weekend was over. Visions of a cool office and easy access to sugary, icy drinks filled her head and made her smile, until Gibbs informed her that the crime scene was outdoors and an hour's drive away. Oh, and she had to find Tony before she came.

It was this last detail that now saw her leaving the comfort of her car to stride towards the park two blocks from Tony's apartment. A group of five women in tiny shorts sat on the bleachers on the edge of the small playing field, soaking up the blistering sun and laughing. Ziva steered well clear of them, and instead headed towards an empty picnic bench in the shade of a large oak tree. Suffering heatstroke was not on her list of things to do today.

A breath of wind lifted her hair and snaked along the back of her neck, and Ziva closed her eyes in momentary relief. It had to be pushing 100 degrees right now, and the humidity was nudging the edges of what Ziva would call bearable. Even the barest hint of wind seemed like a gift from God.

She looked out at the playing field and smiled under her sunglasses. _Speaking of gifts from God…_

Her view was of about ten men, aged from mid-20s to early-40s, mostly in very good shape, mostly shirtless, and all crashing into each other while they played a loose game of what Americans thought passed for football. It certainly wasn't going to be the worst sight Ziva saw today. In the middle of the pack was Tony, clad only in athletic shoes and knee-length blue shorts, and running around with more energy than he had any right to have in this heat. He had a smile on his face that could light up Vegas, and Ziva felt a pang of guilt that she was going to be the one to burst his happy bubble. She didn't have the heart to stride in there and drag him home, so instead she sat on top of the picnic table, her feet up on the seat and elbows braced on her knees, and waited for him to see her.

She didn't have to wait long. He looked her way when a pass went long, and a moment later he was smacking one of his team-mates on his back and jogging off towards the bleachers. Ziva watched as he picked up a white t-shirt, his keys and phone from the bench, then turned back as one of the women called out to him. He slid on his sunglasses as he replied, and Ziva could almost pinpoint the moment when all five women broke into laughter. She smirked to herself. Typical Tony.

She watched him unabashedly as he approached her, letting her eyes travel over his bare chest and arms. She'd always been attracted to him (even if she'd been appalled with herself when they'd first met), but lately he'd been looking more toned and, well, _delicious_. Her mind wandered to a place where those arms were wrapped tightly around her and that chest pressed her into a bed while she arched beneath him. She discreetly squeezed her thighs together and filed the thought away for future exploration.

When he got within six feet of her, Tony had looked up with a smile that made her sigh. _Yes, please_, she'd thought, as she blatantly looked him up and down. _More of this._

"Nice chest."

Tony raised a single eyebrow and smirked. "Back at you," he shot back without missing a beat. "I missed three calls from Gibbs."

"Why do you think he sent an assassin to get you?" she asked, poker faced, and pushed her sunglasses up to rest on her head so that she could see him better in the shade.

Tony laughed as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm. "What's going on?"

"Dead woman in a lieutenant's pool," she replied, her eyes pausing on the V-muscle that disappeared into the top of his shorts. "That is all I know."

Tony took in the familiar look in her eyes, the one that said she was thinking impure thoughts, and sent a silent prayer of thanks for it. So, she was in one of _those_ moods. The kind where she spent the day ogling him without caring if he caught her and touching him at every opportunity. Usually it only came out after they'd had a few drinks, but more and more he was seeing it when she was stone cold sober. And Tony could not be more pleased or encouraging.

"Sounds like a job for Team Gibbs," he said, as if he'd been paying attention all along.

Ziva swung her legs around and slid off the bench to stand in front of him, so close that her chest brushed his. "I'll give you a ride," she said, drawing another smile out of him. "But you need to shower first."

She turned and sauntered back to her car in the lot, leaving Tony to watch the swing of her ass in her jeans.

"Thank you, Ziva," he called.

Yep, Tony had a feeling he was really going to enjoy today.

* * *

Back at his apartment, Tony had the quickest shower of his life and then pulled on jeans and a green t-shirt. Okay, so it wasn't exactly standard work attire (these days), but it was Saturday, it was their weekend off, and he had five minutes' notice. And anyway, it wasn't as if Miss Ziva David out there was dressed up to the nines. She was in a freaking tank top. A blinding white tank top that showed off her gorgeous golden skin and hugged her curves…

"Tony!" she called out from the living room. "We must go. Gibbs will kick your ass."

He frowned and opened his bedroom door. "Why would he only kick _my_ ass?" he argued as he walked down the hall. "You're just as much to blame…"

He trailed off when he caught sight of her, standing in front of the fan in the living room with her arms out the to side. She turned her head to look back at him, and the fan blew her long, dark hair back over her shoulder. She gave him that look again, dark eyes under heavy lids, and Tony had to curl his fists and take a deep breath. They were only 20 minutes into their day together, and already he was finding it hard not to go over there, shove her against the wall and have his way with her.

If Ziva had known his thoughts were mirroring hers, there was a very good chance she would have encouraged it. He'd put on those damn jeans that fit his ass so well, he hadn't bothered to shave, and she could smell his soap and shampoo from across the room. She felt a flash of desire, and she turned her head away from him before she made them very, very late.

What was it they said about excessive and prolonged heat having an effect on a person's ability to think clearly?

"Ready?" she asked.

Tony swallowed hard and swung his backpack over his shoulder. "Let's go."

**

* * *

I quite like this chapter. Through all my rewrites, this chapter has basically stayed the same. Time will tell if the rest of them are any good.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who alerted, favourited, reviewed and encouraged me to get through the writer's block. I'm overwhelmed by how wonderful and supportive you guys can be. I think I've almost got it sorted out (maybe).  
I quite like this chapter as well. Makes me feel like there might be an actual plot to the story, and I always like writing banter between Tony and Ziva.  
Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

They arrived at Navy Lieutenant Ryan Stewart's house on the beach and hour later, after making the quickest of stops at a McDonald's drive through for more Slushies. Tony groaned as they stepped out of the car and into the blistering sun, and joined Ziva at the trunk where she was pulling out her backpack.

"I don't see McGoo's ride," he commented, looking up and down the road.

"He was not my responsibility," Ziva replied, slamming the trunk shut half a second after Tony's hand was clear. "Nor were Ducky or Palmer."

Tony looked up and down the street again, but only saw two cruisers and a bunch of luxury cars. "Are we seriously the first ones here? Gibbs' head is going to explode."

"It is a good thing I drove, yes?" Ziva said, tilting her head to look up at him as they walked towards the house. "If we relied on you, we would still be 20 minutes away."

Tony gave her an exaggerated smile and forced a laugh. "Yes, your safety-adverse driving style saved the day."

In response, Ziva spun and stepped in front of him, causing Tony to walk right into her. "Hey, I bought you a Slushie," she reminded him, and dropped her eyes for what had to be her fifth good look at him that day. "Be nice to me."

He couldn't help the smile, or encouraging her further. "When am I ever not nice?"

"When you make fun of my superior driving skills," she replied, before poking him in the ribs and turning her back to him once more.

Tony watched her go for a moment before jogging to catch up with her. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Ziva," he said as he slung his arm around her shoulder. "Would a sugar-laden, raspberry-flavoured ice drink make it up to you?"

She cut him a look out of the corner of her eye. "I have more obvious weaknesses, Tony," she said, and broke away from him as they approached a red-skinned uniformed officer.

Tony watched as the officer looked Ziva up and down, his eyes pausing at the gun on her hip and swell of her chest before settling on the badge she held up at her shoulder.

"NCIS," she said. "The body is around back, yes?"

The officer nodded and lifted the crime scene tape. "Yes, ma'am."

Ziva paused at the label as she ducked under the tape, and Tony heard her intake of breath. He put his hand on her back quickly, stilling the verbal bitch slap she was undoubtedly about to let loose at the officer's use of the 'M' word.

"Thanks, kid," Tony threw at the officer, and he caught the smirk touching the corner of Ziva's mouth. He gave her a wink of solidarity and they continued to the scene.

It wasn't hard to spot Gibbs. He was the only one in a crowd of party guests and cops wearing a windbreaker. His Gibbs Magic kicked in when Tony and Ziva got within ten feet, and he called out to them, despite having had his back to them the whole time.

"What took you two so long?" he asked.

Tony and Ziva shared a 'how does he do that?' look before Tony spoke up.

"I was in the middle of a game, boss. Probably would have been here ten minutes ago if Ziva had been able to stop ogling me." He shot a childish grin at her, but Ziva only gave him a sultry smirk in return.

"Actually, I was ogling the 25-year-old in the red shorts."

Tony's smile fell, even though he knew she was probably joking, and he unconsciously sucked his stomach in a little. Fine, he wasn't 25 anymore. But he thought he was pretty good for 40, especially since he'd picked up his exercise regime.

"How 'bout you both start ogling the scene," Gibbs suggested. "DiNozzo, shoot and sketch. David, bag and tag."

"On it, boss," Tony said, already pulling the camera with the telephoto lens out of his bag as Ziva tied her hair into a loose bun.

Gibbs finished his perusal of the body of a woman in her mid-twenties, lying beside a large pool after being dragged from the water, and turned to look at them. His eyes flicked over Ziva's bare shoulders, then up to her face.

"Make sure you get that bloodstain on the edge of the pool," he told them.

"Of course," she said.

"You wearing sunscreen?" he asked her, almost kindly.

"Yes, Dad," she replied, managing to keep a straight face.

Gibbs nodded, threw a look at Tony, and then left them.

"I'm wearing sunscreen too!" Tony called after him. "Thanks for checking."

Ziva chuckled. "Looks like I am the favourite today," she said, and snapped on a pair of gloves.

"Only until he sees Abby."

Ziva pulled opened the small evidence kit she had in her bag and crouched to swab the spot of blood Gibbs had been looking at earlier. Tony snapped a few shots from above of the body and the stain.

"You know," he said, "I was kind of hoping that we'd get a happy Gibbs to work with on this case after all the yelling and throwing things during our last."

"I'm not sure I understand your use of the word 'happy' in the context of Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Ziva replied, carefully sealing the blood sample in an evidence bag and tagging it.

Tony leant back slightly to snap a photo of her ass. "I meant happy on the Gibbs scale of emotiveness."

"Is that anything like the Richter Scale?"

He grinned, pleased that she was in a playful mood. "Kind of. They both measure forms of explosive outbursts."

"And both outbursts leave a path of destruction," came a familiar, accented voice from behind them.

They turned to see Ducky and Palmer approaching, both in full Medical Examiner jumpsuits.

"Afternoon, doctor," Tony said. "Lovely day to be beside the seaside."

"Perhaps for some, but not for others," Ducky replied, kneeling beside the body before addressing it. "Now, my dear. What happened to you?"

As Ducky continued his one-sided conversation, Palmer sidled up to Tony. "Is McGee here?"

"Not yet," Tony replied, snapping a few shots of an overturned chair and high ball glass. "Gibbs is going to have his McHead on a McPlatter."

"Oh. It's just that I was on a mystery novel discussion board last night," Palmer offered enthusiastically. "And they were talking about the upcoming release of the new Thom E Gemcity novel."

Tony froze for a moment, then swung around to see if Ziva had heard the comment. It was obvious she had by the way she narrowed her eyes at Palmer. She flicked her eyes to Tony and they made a silent agreement. _War on Probie._

"When is it coming out?" Tony asked as Ziva got to her feet and took up position behind him and to the right. Backup position.

"November some time," Palmer said. "Apparently the release date has been bumped a few times. He didn't say anything to you guys, did he?"

"We left him alive the last time we saw him," Ziva replied. "So no, we did not know."

Palmer looked embarrassed. "I just don't want him to say I'm a necrophiliac again," he said, and left them to rejoin Ducky.

Tony looked over his shoulder at Ziva. "Okay. Palmer probably got the worst deal of all of us, but that doesn't mean that we can't tear McGrisham limb from limb."

Ziva gave him an enigmatic smile and bumped him with her shoulder. "I think my assassin's training is finally rubbing off on you."

* * *

The New York Times' best seeling author arrived half an hour later, hastily pulling on his NCIS cap as he ran across the lawn to where Tony was sketching a rough outline of the scene.

"You're late," Tony said without taking his eyes off the sketch.

"I got tied up," McGee said breathlessly. "Gibbs is going to kill me."

"Gibbs won't have a chance once we're done with you," Ziva said, appearing out of thin air to whisper menacingly into McGee's ear and causing him to jump in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" McGee asked, trying to turn to face her but finding himself suddenly sandwiched between Tony and Ziva.

"How's the new novel going, Thom?" Tony asked.

"We heard it was almost complete," Ziva added.

"Were you late because you were working out the percentage of royalties you're going to be paying us all?"

McGee swallowed. "How did you--?" he started, but Tony cut him off.

"We're very talented investigators," he anticipated. "Isn't that right, _Lisa_?"

"I am more talented at _torture_," Ziva replied. "What peril does Officer Lisa find herself in this time, Mr Gemcity?"

McGee had no doubt that he was inviting hours, days and possibly months of thinly veiled threats, but there was no point lying. They'd both read the book soon enough. "She's in a plane crash," he told her.

Ziva gasped and stepped back from him, only to punch him in the arm. "You want me dead!"

McGee spun and backed away from them both, raising his hands in defence. "No! Ziva, she doesn't die. I would never kill off Lisa."

But that didn't placate her. "Oh, so you just want me horribly disfigured!"

"It's a work of fiction!" McGee argued for what had to be the hundredth time. "Lisa is very loosely based on you and a few other women."

Ziva narrowed her eyes, and Tony shook his head slowly. "You're not writing a novel. You're writing a suicide note."

"Ah, damn it, McGee," Gibbs sighed as he joined his agents. "Not again."

"I signed a three-book deal," McGee explained, taking off his hat and fanning himself in the scorching heat. "I'm contractually obliged to deliver this book and one more."

"If you live that long," Ziva muttered.

"I'm with Lisa," Tony said. "Permission to throw him overboard, boss?"

"Denied, for now," Gibbs replied. "I need him to take witness statements. With me, McGee."

McGee slinked between the glaring Tony and Ziva, and caught up to Gibbs halfway across the lawn. "Sorry I'm late, boss. I—"

Gibbs' hand connected soundly with the back of his head.

"Right. Don't apologise," McGee recited.

"That was for Tony and Ziva," Gibbs told him. "The apology is deserved. Get your butt over to those witnesses."

* * *

Two hours later, Tony snapped off a final shot then looked over at Ziva as she stood up straight and stretched out her back, curving her spine in a way that he found irresistible. She looked over her shoulder at him, as if hearing his thoughts and ready to admonish him. But she shot him a small smile that struck him as intensely intimate, and wandered over to join him under a big, shady tree.

"Get enough shots?" she asked.

"The scene is well documented," he assured her.

She gave him a knowing look. "I hope you got my best angle."

He grinned, sprung. "Yeah, I got plenty of your ass."

She cocked her head to the side as she regarded him. "Does Gibbs know about the image file on the shared computer drive with all the crime scene outtakes in it?"

Tony shrugged. "If he does, he doesn't care."

She crouched to unzip his backpack sitting at his feet and pulled out his bottle of water. As she drank, McGee cautiously approached them with red cheeks and forearms.

"I think the goose is cooked," Tony cracked.

McGee rolled his eyes but accepted the jibe as penance. "How come you two aren't roasted?"

"Israeli skin," Ziva replied, wiping her mouth. "I have more melanin."

"Italian skin," Tony added. "Same situation. Sucks to be you, McIrish."

McGee gingerly touched his cheek. "This is going to hurt so much tonight."

"What did the witnesses say?" Tony wanted to know.

"No one saw anything," McGee replied flatly. "Molly Spears was swimming alone, and was found 20 minutes later floating face down. Her boyfriend, Sam Laconte, tried to give her CPR, but she didn't come around. And he's a volunteer fire fighter, so either he was doing it wrong on purpose, or it was never going to help."

"I collected some cocktail glasses from beside her chair," Ziva said. "Abby will tell us if there was anything hinky in there."

Tony and McGee both smirked at her terminology.

"Who interviewed Laconte?" Tony asked, taking the water bottle off Ziva and downing the remaining two inches.

"Both Gibbs and I," McGee said. "Seemed genuinely distraught. But I'm gonna go do a background check anyway." He wiped his bright pink brow again. "You know, from the air conditioned comfort of the office."

Gibbs appeared on the lawn ten feet away. "Ziva!" He cocked his head in a _come here_ gesture, and Ziva gave McGee's burnt arm a gentle pat before joining Gibbs.

Tony watched her go, and then turned to McGee. "Plane crash? Really?"

McGee shrugged. "It's only to force a conversation with Agent Tommy." He looked up at Tony with a smirk. "He goes down with her, and right now, things don't look particularly good for him."

Tony gave him a dirty look in return, but as McGee wandered away, he couldn't help calling after him. "_What_ conversation?"

McGee didn't reply, and somehow, Tony thought that may have been a good thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Includes a little homage to Hart to Hart, because we love Robert Wagner. Throwing a little love to Abby in this chapter, too. Not much, but a little.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

While Gibbs and McGee spent the afternoon in autopsy with Ducky, Tony and Ziva got the latest from their favorite forensic scientist.

"Well I don't have much yet," Abby started as she moved in circles from machine to computer to Petrie dishes. "Fingerprints on the glass came back to Lieutenant Stewart and Molly Spears."

"No surprises," Ziva said, glancing at Tony. "He served her the drink."

Abby nodded. "Right. But I'm running swabs from inside the glass through trace in case someone slipped her the Mickey. Gimme five minutes and I should have something for you."

"What about the blood on the pool edge?" Ziva asked.

"Not hers," Abby said with a shake of her head.

"Laconte had a fresh scrape on his arm," Tony recounted. "Could be his."

"Did he give a sample?"

"No," Tony answered. "But he's coming in for questioning tonight. We can ask him then."

Ziva shrugged agreeably, and then sat on a stool by Abby's workbench. Tony dragged over another stool to sit across from her, and glanced over his shoulder at the door, expecting Gibbs to stride in at any moment and bust them for hanging around. When it looked like they might be safe from the wrath of the boss, Tony turned around again and was only mildly surprised to find Ziva's dark eyes on him. She'd been staring almost as much as he had been lately—usually she was much more stealth about it, but something in the way she was purposely letting him catch her now unnerved him in the best possible way.

He looked over his shoulder, as if checking for another guy she might have been looking at, and then turned back to her and pointed at his chest. "Me?" he mouthed, in 'disbelief'.

Ziva's smile turned amused for a moment and she dropped her eyes to look him up and down again. She lifted her hand to rub at her cheek, and Tony mirrored her action, scratching his fingers over the stubble that had grown, and raising an eyebrow in question. Ziva let her eyebrows rise and fall quickly in confirmation, her face showing her approval, and Tony narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, as if contemplating this new information about what Ziva found attractive.

She responded with that small, secret smile that she'd been giving him from the day they met, that hinted at unprofessional thoughts and made his skin prickle and itch. It was one of the things that he liked about her the most, her ability to get one up on him with just a look. For a few moments, he could have sworn that she let her guard down and let him see bare desire in her eyes, and the tingling in his belly intensified. Somehow, he managed to keep her gaze.

The silence dragged out as sultry brown held mischievous green, tension crackling and making Ziva's toes curl. If he leant over and kissed her now, Ziva thought that she probably would have started pulling off clothes. But of course, he didn't make a move. He just sat there and looked at her with the promise of things to come in his eyes and that goddamn Joker smirk on his lips.

Abby rubbed at the sudden prickling sensation on the back of her neck. "You guys are very quiet back there," she suddenly said, snapping Ziva out of the fantasy she was building in her head and back into the forensics lab.

She glanced to see if Abby was looking—she wasn't—and looked back at Tony with a loaded smile. "I am sick of talking to him, Abby," she purred.

Tony's eyebrows rose as he read between the lines and felt a flush of anticipation. He considered assuring her that he'd be happy for her to do something else with her mouth, but thought better of it in their friend's presence. So he changed the subject.

"Abs, did you know anything about our esteemed colleague's latest foray into the literary world?" he asked. "He's got me and Ziva going down in a plane crash, and for some reason he thinks he can get away with that without Ziva burying him in sand and letting fire ants crawl on his face."

Abby turned around slowly, and Tony was met with two disturbed looks. "You never thought of doing that?" he asked Ziva.

"No, Tony."

Tony shrugged it off and looked back to Abby. "Had he told you?"

Abby heaved a sigh. "Yeah. And I'm totally supportive of him getting involved in extra-curricular activities that feed his soul." She turned briefly at a random beep from her computer, and missed the eye roll that Tony and Ziva shared. "But he seriously needs to look at his characterisation. I don't want another crazed fan trying to kill me."

Tony looked to Ziva, twisting his lips, and Ziva closed her eyes and nodded in agreement. Okay, so Jimmy _and_ Abby got a worse deal last time that either of them did.

"He needs to change the setting," Ziva said. "And the characters. And the premise."

Tony nodded. "Especially if he wants to sell the rights for a movie. No one's gonna want to watch 90 minutes of Tibbs slapping Tommy."

"I could think of some people who would," Abby muttered, then added more loudly, "It's good he has a back-up career, anyway. That's smart. You know, for the future."

Tony thought about that for a moment. "You know what I think?" he asked, as he picked up an errant rubber band and started flexing it.

Ziva lifted her hair off her hot neck and twisted it around her hand. "I cannot begin to imagine."

"I think you and me should open our own detective agency." He was laughing at the stupidity of the idea before he'd even finished the sentence.

With her back to them, Abby snorted on a giggle, and then cleared her throat. "Sorry, Tony. That's just really cute."

Ziva scrunched her nose in agreement as she rested her elbows on the desk. "How much thought have you given to this?"

"A few seconds', at least," Tony replied, then shrugged. "I've been watching a lot of _Hart to Hart_ lately."

Ziva thought of the TV show Tony had showed her a few months ago. "They did not have a detective agency," she pointed out.

"No, but they solved crime and looked hot while doing it." He gazed off into the distance. "Stefanie Powers. I had the biggest crush on her."

Ziva looked at him thoughtfully. "How is that different from what I do now?"

He gave her a forced laugh at her use of _I _instead of _we_. "It's not, except that with _my_ way, you wouldn't have to do paperwork. And you'd have a butler."

"Those are actually very good arguments," she admitted. "But we would need a lot of capital. _And_ we'd have to hire Abby, here."

Abby glanced over her shoulder at Ziva's raised eyebrow. "I'll definitely consult for you."

Tony pointed at Ziva with the rubber band stretched between his thumb and index finger. "Jonathan and Jennifer didn't need a forensic scientist. They did things old school." He frowned. "Although, I suppose back in 1980 they didn't have much of a choice."

"Did you have a fight with Gibbs?" Ziva asked, trying to understand where his urge to break free had come from.

He shook his head. "No. I just think I'd look great in a thick, white, belted, cable-knit cardigan."

"Do you?" she asked after a silent beat, clearly holding a different perspective.

He shot her a grin. "You'll have to change your hair. And call me 'darling' every five minutes."

"Dah-ling," Ziva repeated with a polished accent, making Tony smile with mirth.

"That sounds more like Cary Grant."

"Who's she?" Ziva asked, deadpan, and knew she'd hit her mark when Tony paled.

"Are you joking? Or are we no longer friends?"

Ziva patted his hand reassuringly. "Of course I know who he is. Calm down."

"Prove it," he said, deadly serious.

Ziva rolled her eyes but submitted to his demand. "_An Affair to Remember_, _Charade_, _The Philadelphia Story_."

And just like that, Tony's look of horror slid into one of utter pride. "You've come a long way, kid." He looked over at Abby. "What do you think, Abs?"

Abby spun, pigtails flying, and leant back against her desk with a grin. "I think the heat's frying your brain. But, out of curiosity, where would you set up?"

"Hawaii," Tony replied. "Or possibly Tahiti."

"I've always wanted to go to Bora Bora," Ziva sighed.

Tony nodded. "Nice. Kind of a small client base to work with, though."

"I thought it was obvious that we would have a private jet," Ziva said.

Tony clicked his fingers before pointing at her. "The jet. Right, we need to get one of those. You're obviously going to be the brains of the operation."

"Obviously."

"Can you fly a plane?" he asked, then answered his own question. "Of course you can."

"A helicopter," Ziva shrugged.

"Close enough," he decided. "So you'd be the brains, the transport, the beauty and the muscle."

Ziva's lips quirked. "And what would you bring, Tony?"

He splayed his hands like it was obvious. "The charm, Zee-vah."

Abby leaned back slightly, half expecting Ziva to vault over the table and shove her tongue down his throat if the subtle look on her face was anything to go by. Tony continued to smile at her, knowing full well that he was working his way past her defenses, until Ziva broke into a full smile and shook her head.

"Darling," she said again, with her own voice this time, even if she was still making a joke.

Tony winked at her, pleased that he'd won that round, then looked at Abby. "Start planning our farewell party. I expect it'll only take a few weeks to get this thing off the ground."

Abby's computer beeped again, and they all looked at the screen, fantasies forgotten as the real world took over. Abby clicked through a few windows as Tony and Ziva came up behind her, and she quickly read through the results.

"Okay, the mystery ingredient in the drinking glass is…" she paused for effect. "Absolutely nothing hinky. Root beer, looks like. And minute amounts of washing up liquid. Shoulda rinsed one more time."

"Damn it," Tony sighed.

Abby spun on him and raised a warning finger. "I'm not done yet, Tony. I've still got blood and stomach contents running. If that girl was poisoned, I'll find out. You think I won't find out?"

Tony yanked his head back before he got poked in the eye. "I know you will, Abs. I don't doubt you. I never doubt you. Never bet against Abby, that's my motto."

Abby nodded once. "And don't you forget it."

**

* * *

So how's the mix of banter and heat sitting with people? Too much of one or the other? I guess I'm trying to find a balance like they have on the show, but I'm amping up the heat a bit because, well, it's TIVA fanfic and that's kind of the point of the story.  
Thanks once again for all the reviews, story alerts and favorites. It's lovely to see all my regulars again! I love youse all.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So, the general feeling out there is that there's a good balance of banter and heat. Phew. Thanks all for your comments. It's nice to know that we're all on the same wavelength. That being said, this chapter is almost all heat. Ahem.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Abby was sucking up the remnants of her sixth Caf-Pow when McGee came down to see her that night.

"Timmy!" she cried, and flung her arms around his neck. "I haven't seen you all day."

McGee took the hit with an indulgent smile, even though one of the spikes on her collar scratched painfully on his red cheek. "Evening, Abs."

She pulled back and looked at him with concerned eyes. "What happened to you? Why are you all red?"

"Sunburn. From this morning," he told her, flexing his fingers by his sides as the sting started up again.

Abby held up a finger. "I can mix you some stuff for that," she said, and spun to her workbench to start mixing something white and goopy in a Petrie dish.

McGee peered over her shoulder. "Is this like that rank stuff you gave me for the poison ivy?"

"It worked, didn't it?" Abby defended, and then presented him with the dish. "Here. Try this."

McGee twisted his lips. "Uh, Ducky said that I should just try some aloe—" He trailed off when her bottom lip started to push out and her eyes started to widen. He was no match for Abby's wounded puppy face. He took the dish. "But I will try this first. Thank you."

The pout was replaced with a bright smile. "My pleasure. What else can I do for you?"

McGee gestures at the other, way more gross-looking Petrie dishes on the bench. "Stomach contents?"

Abby nodded and spun again towards her computer. "Yep. And I know what killed her."

McGee's face lifted. "That's great!"

Abby nodded excitedly. "I know, right? I always get a little buzz when something goes _ping_. Even after all this time. There's just something so raw about the science that just—"

"Abs?"

"What?"

"What killed her?" McGee asked in that patient tone he reserved just for her.

Abby frowned and looked over at the door. "Well, I can't tell you yet. Gibbs will be here any second and I always—"

"Gibbs is in interrogation with Molly's boyfriend," McGee told her. "He's not coming. You can come out and tell me."

"Oh," she said, looking confused. "My Gibbs Sense must be on the fritz."

"It happens sometimes."

Abby pulled a sheet of paper off her desk. "Well, in that case, she was poisoned by the oleander plant. Ground up seeds in her cereal, I think."

McGee took the report and glanced over the list of compounds. "That's fantastic," he said, then looked up sheepishly. "Not for her, obviously."

"No."

"Thanks Abs," McGee said, and headed for the door. But Abby grabbed his arm.

"Wait, I need to ask you something."

McGee glanced at the door, decided that Gibbs would be stuck in interrogation for a while longer, and then nodded at her. "What's up?"

Abby's face took on a half guilty, half amused expression. "Have you talked to Tony and Ziva much today?"

McGee's shoulders slumped and he rolled his eyes. "No, they're barely talking to me at all. They found out about the book and they're kind of…tetchy."

"You should have told them sooner," Abby lectured gently, making McGee nod and wince. "But that's not what I was getting at. Have they seemed kind of…" She couldn't find the appropriate word, so she acted out a full body shiver instead.

McGee pursed his lips. "I assume you're talking about how every time you walk into a room they're in, you suddenly feel like you've walked in on them having sex?"

Abby nodded firmly. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"It's getting kind of uncomfortable," McGee told her.

Abby thought about the prickling on her neck when they were in the room with her earlier. After they'd left, she'd felt like she needed a cigarette. "So, do you think they're…" She bumped her fists together twice.

McGee crinkled his nose at the gesture. "I…prefer not to think about it, Abby. But another day or two of this, and I'm going to start walking into rooms with my hand over my eyes."

* * *

One floor up and on the other side of the building, Tony and Ziva stood in the interrogation viewing room, watching Gibbs interview a devastated Sam Laconte. Despite the heat that still clung to their skin from their day in the sun, they stood close together, more accustomed to the lack of personal space than respect for it.

Ziva leant her shoulder against the cool glass, a stark comparison to the fire on her back from Tony's body. Rationally, she knew that his presence was affecting her today more than it usually did because the protracted heat wave was messing with her patience and making her more impulsive. And, okay, the eye sex they'd been having that afternoon hadn't helped matters. But knowing _why_ she was so worked up didn't necessarily make his presence and the itching of her skin any easier to cope with.

"I don't think he did it," came Tony's voice from right behind her, and the side of Ziva's neck near his mouth erupted in gooseflesh.

"Neither do I," she agreed, unconsciously tilting her head to the side and arching her neck towards him. "But I would like to hear about his relationship with Molly's best friend. He has mentioned her several times."

"Are your ninja senses picking up signs of an affair?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark."

She returned her attention to the interview, but Tony's eyes lazily made their way down to her neck. What was it about a woman's neck, he wondered, that never failed to draw his attention? The delicate skin? The enticing curve? The impossible softness and warmth under his mouth? Or was it the smell? The delicious concoction of soap, shampoo, perfume and skin that was unique for every woman?

He took a deep breath and then zoned out as his mind's eye went to a place where he could take a fistful of that gorgeous hair, lift it away from Ziva's neck and touch his lips to that oh-so enticing skin. Where he could let his tongue sweep over her throat as he learnt the taste of her, the texture of her. He wanted to find the sweet spot, that patch of skin under her ear that would be the most sensitive, that would make her gasp and clutch at him. He wanted to spend hours developing a map in his head of those places on her neck where a kiss, a lick, a suck, a nibble could make her moan or cry into his ear. He wanted his mouth to know her neck as well as his eyes knew her face.

When his lips began to tingle in anticipation of contact, Tony slowly brought himself back to reality. One day (and for the love of all that was holy, he hoped that day would be soon) he _would_ get to know her neck. But introducing himself to it in NCIS's interrogation room with Gibbs less than seven feet away would probably get him killed before he got to know the rest of her body. Tonight, the rule had to be strictly look, but don't touch.

From her position in front of him, Ziva watched his reflection in the glass and swallowed hard at the intensity of his gaze. She had no idea what was going on in his head that held his attention so fully, only that it had something to do with her. Against her better judgment (really, she shouldn't encourage him when they were within the Navy Yard's perimeter), she shifted her weight to her other foot, pushing herself more fully against him. She wasn't sure, but she should have sworn that he pushed back.

Deciding to feign ignorance over what was going on behind her, Ziva watched Gibbs wrap up the interview by asking for a DNA sample. She sighed at their lack of progress, and then turned to press her back against the glass and look up at her partner's dark gaze. "The best friend?" she suggested.

Tony's eyes slowly lifted from her neck. "I'll start a background search. You talk to Gibbs."

Ziva nodded, but neither of them moved. She felt rooted to the spot by the thick tension in the air, pinned to the wall by his gaze. His smile sat just so, spending a spark of excitement through her belly. She flicked her gaze to his mouth—the mouth that she knew from glorious experience was supremely talented—and came within milliseconds of leaning forward and bringing her mouth down on his.

But she didn't. The buzz she was feeling right now was intensely beautiful, perfectly painful, and she wanted to drag it out. Tease them both more. She had no doubt that once the dam broke it would be worth every second of the drought. But right now she was enjoying the torture, the thirst, so much.

She regained use of her arms, and planted a hand in the centre of his chest to give him a gentle shove. "Go, search."

Tony let himself be pushed, and gave her a final, devastating smile before he left the room. The suffocating tension immediately broke, and Ziva took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Her heartbeat had only just returned to the realms of normal when Gibbs came through the door.

"Where's DiNozzo?"

She swallowed before replying. "Starting a background search on Molly's best friend. We felt he brought her into the conversation a few too many times."

Gibbs nodded, and she knew they were on the same page. "He didn't do it."

"No," she agreed. "And if Molly was given poison, as we suspect, the killer is more likely to be female."

"I want to talk to her tomorrow," Gibbs said. "On her own turf."

Ziva nodded, and then felt herself squirming when Gibbs barely narrowed his eyes and gave her that look. The one that she knew meant that he'd smelt fear, and was now trying to work out its source. She put all her faith in her practiced expression of innocence, and then arched an eyebrow at him in question. "Gibbs?"

He continued to stare at her, but then held out the swab. "Take that down to Abby. Run it against the blood sample from the pool."

Ziva stepped forward and snatched the swab from his hand. "On it, Gibbs."

**

* * *

Was that really lame? Geez, I hope not, because the rest of the story will continue on like this and I'll have to do some serious editing.  
Next chapter is The Chapter That Almost Killed Me. It still needs tweaking, so send some good editing vibes my way, please.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is it. The chapter that almost broke me. What I've ended up with is by no means the best thing you're going to read this year—probably not event the best thing you'll read today. But it's done. It carries the story through. It does its job. And we need never speak of this again. Except to review. That'd be nice.  
Also, it occurs to me that it's somewhat ridiculous to be posting a story about a heat wave when in the real world, DC is in the midst of Snowtorious B.I.G. But I think if I stopped posting until May, some of you might track me down and hurt me.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Tim McGee was nervous. He'd been standing in the interrogation viewing room with Ziva for the last 15 minutes, watching Gibbs question Molly's best friend, and so far the ex-assassin had not uttered a word. She was giving him the silent treatment—payback for Officer Lisa's plane crash, McGee was certain—and it was really beginning to creep him the hell out.

Tony had been getting his payback, too. Before leaving the night before, he had crept up behind McGee as he sat at his desk, leant over his shoulder and trapped him in his chair.

"I know you don't lock your windows at night," Tony had said in a whisper that made Tim's skin crawl.

McGee's eyes had gone wide in alarm, and he looked over to Ziva for help. But Ziva just stared back at him, eerily silent and utterly still in the half-light of her desk lamp.

McGee had cleared his throat nervously. "You know, I'd probably notice if you or Ziva came through my bedroom window, Tony."

"True," Tony allowed. "But small things, Tim, that creep and crawl and slither, don't make a whole lot of noise. Do they?"

McGee had shrugged it off like the two of them hadn't come close to bothering him. But as soon as he'd gotten home, he'd checked his whole house for small things that crept and crawled and slithered, and then checked the locks on every window. He knew that he was playing right into their hands, but he'd rather check and feel stupid than wake up with a spider on his face that Ziva had managed to ninja into his bedroom.

Ziva's silent treatment should have been preferable to Tony's alarmingly effective psychological warfare. Except that every time McGee relaxed and let himself focus on the interrogation, he would slowly become aware of Ziva's eyes on him. When he turned her way, he found her looking at him with the kind of intensity he associated with a sociopathic serial killer. He'd started taking tiny steps away from her after the second time she'd done it. Now, he was so far from her that he had to cock his head slightly to the side just to see what was happening on the other side of the two-way mirror.

Inside the interrogation room, where real work was being done, Gibbs sat with a sobbing Ellie Johansen, Molly's best friend and, it appeared, Sam Laconte's ex-girlfriend. Tony's background searches the night before had turned up hotel charges in Myrtle Beach on Laconte's credit card on the same weekend in June as Ellie's credit card showed purchases in the resort town. A motive for the murder was beginning to take shape.

As planned, Gibbs, Ziva and Tony had turned up at Ellie's apartment that morning for a soft interview to try to get to the bottom of things. While Gibbs and Ziva played the caring father and friend roles with Ellie, Tony had charmed Ellie's roommate for the real dirt on the threesome. As soon as words like "bitch fight", "psychotic" and "defriending" were used, they brought Ellie in for further questioning.

Except that now that she was talking to Gibbs, Ellie wasn't striking any of the agents as the guilty party. Like Laconte, her tears were from grief, not guilt. And when Tony called down to say he'd been able to confirm her alibi for Saturday morning, they found themselves without a solid suspect.

That was, until Lieutenant Stewart's name was mentioned.

"He's had such a bad year," Ellie sniffled. "Him and his wife Sarah. After everything that's happened, I can't believe they have to deal with a friend dying in their pool."

"What's happened?" Gibbs asked gently.

Ellie blew her nose. "Sarah had a bad car accident a few months ago. Her brakes failed and her car slammed into a tree. Then a couple of weeks later she was on her morning run and some guy ran a red light and clipped her while she was crossing the street. And then the store she runs was firebombed when she was working late one night. God, it's been a horrible year for them."

The gears turned in the agents' heads, and they watched Gibbs barely turn his head to the side. They both understood the signal, and Ziva broke the silent treatment she was giving McGee.

"I'm on it," she said as she raced from the room and down the hall. She hit the up button for the elevator, but when it didn't arrive within five seconds, Ziva impatiently dashed for the stairs. She flung open the fire door and almost took out Tony, who had just reached the door on the other side.

"Jesus!" he cried, throwing himself out of the way with millimeters to spare.

"Sorry!" she called as she blew past him.

Tony held the door open as he watched her run up the stairs. "What happened?"

"The lieutenant!" Ziva called.

Tony blinked as he tried to put together the pieces, but they weren't fitting properly for him. He dashed after her, taking two steps at a time. "What about him?"

Ziva hit the landing, turned the corner and started up the next flight. "His wife has had several accidents this year," she told him.

Tony got within three steps of her and made a grab for her hand. "Wait," he said, and tugged her gently to get her to slow down for a second and talk to him. He wasn't expecting it when she stopped completely and turned, letting herself be pulled towards him. He was only a step below her when her body pressed against his, and he felt the heat radiating off her. When her face came within an inch of his, her curly hair created a cocooning sensation around him, blocking out the rest of the world and making him forget their conversation.

His hands found her hips of their own accord, and his fingers pressed into her flesh before he pulled her even closer. With her mouth above his, she let out a barely audible cry, her breath coming in quick puffs against his lips as her hand gripped his shoulder. The touch was almost scalding, even through the cotton of his t-shirt. But he sought more of it, welcoming the permanent brand of her on his skin. Her closeness seemed to be drawing the air out of his lungs, and making his head feel heavy and scrambled. This couldn't be happening, he thought, and yet the proof was quite literally in his hands.

Ziva swallowed hard as her body reacted to his touch, her nerve endings thrumming with anticipation and want. She realized that she was just a heavy sigh away from kissing him, and the thought sent an intense stab of heat and arousal between her legs. God, she wanted his mouth on her. She wanted him to kiss her in that way she knew he would, with a strong hand on her cheek to direct her to the exact position where he could kiss her the most deeply. She wanted the taste of him on her lips and the smell of him to sink into her own skin. She wanted him to make her beg for more.

Ziva felt the throb in her centre intensify as her heart hammered painfully. Meeting his eyes, she felt a shudder go through her at the darkness she found there—a warning for everything he wanted to do to her. It gave her a delicious thrill and her sensitized skin screamed out to feel his against her, consequences be damned.

Her head inclined towards him and Tony instinctively lifted his chin as her hand drew across his shoulder to touch his cheek. His breath caught as he waited, deciding that if she made the move he would absolutely follow. But they were stuck between suffocating want and an awareness that this was not how it was supposed to happen. The battle raged in Ziva's head as she tried to make up her mind. Back, forth, now, never, yes, no.

No. No, no, no. Not here.

Ziva let her head drop with the weight of another moment of want and desire cut short, and pressed her temple against his cheek. They breathed heavily against each other for a long, suspended moment until her thumb stroked across his jaw.

"You shaved," she whispered into his shoulder.

He had to clear his throat before he replied, and even then his voice his only at quarter strength. "Gibbs gave me grief."

She nodded against his skin. "Smooth is good, too."

They went silent again, struggling and failing to regain composure. Really, the only thing stopping this from going further right now was a distant knowledge that they were in a concrete stairwell at their place of work, in the middle of an investigation. If they were some place more appropriate…

"I must check about the lieutenant's wife," Ziva finally said in a rough voice that went straight to Tony's pants.

He forced his brain back onto the case. "Did we let Ellie go?"

"Gibbs is still wrapping up."

"Still?" he said, male hope creeping into his voice as his hands slid up her waist.

Ziva tried to clear her throat, but it came out sounding more like a whimper. After a few more moments of indecision, something gave her the strength to slide her hand off his face.

"Oookay," she sighed, and forcibly pulled herself out of her lust daze. She avoided his eyes as she turned around again and started back up the stairs on weaker legs.

Tony watched her go, fighting the impulse to go after her again until she turned the corner at the next landing. As soon as she was out of sight he slumped back against the wall and sucked in much needed air. That woman was going to be the torturously slow and painfully superb death of him.

Ziva waited until she stepped out onto their floor before resting with her back against the wall beside the door. She closed her eyes and took deep, even breaths to get her heart rate under control and tried to ignore the heavy, swollen feeling between her legs.

"You okay, Agent David?"

Vance's voice pulled her out of her utterly inappropriate for the workplace thoughts and she snapped to attention.

"Yes, Director," she said, standing up straight without the aid of the wall. "The lift seems to be out of order so I had to take the stairs. They are, uh, quite steep."

Vance stared at her with a faint smile of amusement. "Maintenance is working on fixing Agent Gibbs' office now," he told her. "It should be running again by the end of the day."

Ziva nodded. "Great."

"How's that case coming along?"

"We may have just had a break," she said, and started off towards her desk. "I have some things to check."

"Well, make sure you keep me updated," he said, and wandered away.

Blowing out a breath, Ziva headed for her desk.

**

* * *

We're getting cloooooserrrrrr. I know that the length of time between updates is starting to drag out, but that's due to real life, not my waning interest in the story. There are about four chapters to go, and they're mostly written already so I **_**will**_** finish this. I just need to find inspired time in between migraines and work. Bear with me. All you reviewers have been freaking amazing and I owe you an ending.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Honestly, this chapter was pretty hard to write as well. No banter and no heat, so we're left with those icky **_**feelings**_** things.  
I must say thank you to those of you who continue to review and alert and favorite this story. I think I've been pretty open about how nervous I've been about it and how hard I've found some parts to write, but every time I get a little alert in my inbox it brings a smile to my face and gives me a bit more confidence. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and respond to it.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

After confirming each of Sarah Stewart's accidents, Tony and McGee had driven back out to the lieutenant's house and brought him in for questioning. Gibbs had spent 10 minutes relating all the evidence they had, and the lieutenant had been almost relived to confess to a botched attempt at murdering his wife for the fourth time. He had sprinkled the oleander in her cereal box, never expecting that Molly would have a bowl herself when she spent the night in their home. Molly had accidentally died because the lieutenant was more comfortable with murder than he was with divorce. Case closed.

It was coming up on 7pm when Abby danced into the bullpen, huge black handbag over her arm and joy in her eyes.

"Okay, I'm ready!" she declared. "Let's go. It's my turn to pick the venue, right? I want to go to that new bar near Tony's place that's supposed to have the biggest cocktail menu in the city."

Tony, Ziva and McGee looked up from their paperwork, around at each other, and then over to Abby.

"Um…" McGee started.

"Right now?" Ziva asked as gently as possible.

"I can't, Abs," Tony said apologetically.

Abby's face fell a little more with each response. "But…end of case drinks," she reminded them, and then zoned in on Tony. "What do you mean you can't?"

Tony splayed his hands in apology. "I'm meeting Josh."

"Bring him," Abby said.

Tony thought of his tall, good looking, way too charming friend in the company of Abby and Ziva, and immediately dismissed the idea. "He's not good with strangers."

Abby shot him a dirty look that nonetheless let him off the hook and turned her attention to Ziva. "What about you?"

Ziva gestured at the stack of files next to her. "I will be dealing with this for a few hours. Thanks to Tony," she added, and then shot her partner a sickly sweet smile. Tony returned one that he hoped would get him out of jail for free and into a much sweeter place sometime soon.

Abby rolled her eyes and then stood in front of McGee, hands on hips and eyes narrowed. "What does 'um' mean?" she demanded.

"Same as Ziva," McGee explained. "Paperwork. But mine is for Gibbs."

"Where is _El Capitán_?"

"Breaking the news to Vance that we just arrested a Navy lieutenant."

Abby grimaced. "So, basically, you're all bailing on me."

"Tomorrow, Abs," Tony promised. "And I'll buy you as many cocktails as you want."

* * *

It was beer that Tony was downing that night with Josh. He was on his second to Josh's fourth later that night when his friend finally cocked his head to the side and addressed the elephant in the sports bar.

"So, what's with you?"

Tony looked back at him blankly. "What are you talking about?"

Josh gestured at the crowd around them. "You haven't hit on a single piece of co-ed ass since we arrived," he said. "In fact, you haven't even looked at the parade."

Tony shrugged like it was nothing out of the ordinary and took a drink, but a traitorous, telling smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth when Josh narrowed his eyes.

"You're sending out some serious unavailable vibes, man," Josh said, leaning in. "Scratch that, you're sending out _relationship_ vibes."

"I'm not in a relationship," Tony said, shaking his head firmly.

"But you're seeing someone."

Tony considered that. It wasn't exactly what was going on, but on the other hand, it kind of was. "No," he said slowly. "But unavailable is probably the best description for…Okay, what is it when you're sort of with someone, but you're not having sex?"

"Marriage," Josh replied with a knowing nod, drawing an eye roll out of Tony. He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "This is great. This is my chance to get you back for all that end of the world crap you spun when I met Celeste."

"How is your amazing wife?" Tony asked, hoping to deflect the attention. But Josh was too amused by the idea of Tony DiNozzo settling down to be distracted.

"She's great, sends her love," Josh replied. "So tell me about this girl. What number is her hair dye? And is that number bigger or smaller than her age and IQ?"

Tony dipped his head—okay, he probably deserved that. But Josh was so far off the mark that he had to laugh. "Okay, the picture you have in your head right now? She's 180 degrees away from that."

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I'll bite. What's she like?"

Tony's eyes drifted off over Josh's shoulder as he considered the question. How the hell did a person sum up Ziva David in a neat little package? "I don't know how to explain her. I just…I want her action figure."

Josh snorted and pointed an accusing finger. "Do you know what you're doing right now? You're doing that thing where you gaze off into the distance when you think about her."

"No. I'm not doing that," Tony chuckled as though the suggestion was preposterous. Josh raised a challenging eyebrow, and Tony quickly sighed and dropped his eyes to the table. "Okay, I'm definitely doing that," he admitted.

"So, you don't think she'd fit in with Sorority Row over there?" Josh asked, raising his chin at a group of girls in barely there skirts and heavy makeup sitting by the bar.

Tony didn't even bother looking. "No." He pulled out his cell phone and started flipping through the random collection of photos for one of Ziva.

Josh burst out laughing. "You have pictures of her on your phone!"

Tony shot him a quick scowl. "I have photos of a lot of people I know on my phone." He stopped on a shot he sneakily took a few weeks ago, appropriately enough from the NCIS surveillance van, of Ziva standing by the open driver's window and looking off down the street. He handed it over.

Josh took the phone and squinted at the screen. "Ohh, I get it," he finally said. "She's not just hot. This woman's beautiful."

Tony nodded as he took the phone back, understanding the distinction. "Yeah, she is."

"When did you meet her?"

Tony smirked. "Coming up on five years ago. This, uh…This is Ziva."

Just as Tony expected, Josh's eyebrows shot up. "_This_ is Ziva? Your partner Ziva? The one who used to kill people for a living? The woman you've been crapping on about for the last hundred years?"

Tony rolled his eyes at himself. He didn't see Josh or his other buddies that much these days, but when he did he was hyper aware of how much he told them about Ziva. And they gave him crap for it _all the time_. "Yeah."

Josh leaned back in his seat. "You're screwed," he predicted.

Tony had to nod. "Yep."

"You're not just looking for a two-month distraction with this, are you?" Josh said, growing more serious. "You're thinking about…Jesus, DiNozzo, I can see it in your face. You're looking at long term. _Real_ long term."

Tony looked at her photo for a few silent moments, letting his mind wander into the future as he weighed it up, and then snapped his phone shut. "Yep."

Josh leaned forward and regarded his friend of twenty years knowingly. "You're already in love with her, aren't you?"

Tony paused as he got that familiar stabbing feeling in his chest. It was the feeling he always got when he thought about how he felt about Ziva, rather than just thinking about all the things he wanted to do to her. He nodded. "Yep."

Josh narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Wasn't she the one who you said probably killed the Prime Minister of Moldovia on her summer vacation last year?"

Tony nodded again. "Yeah, except she didn't. She was in the room, but she didn't fire the kill shot or anything. She was there trying to kill a completely different guy."

Josh stared back at him in impassive silence for a full five seconds. "Oh. Okay, then."

"She's not a bad guy," Tony defended. "She just used to be in intelligence for Mossad. But they're not the bad guys either. They're like the CIA."

"And you love the CIA," Josh said sarcastically.

"That's beside the point," Tony dismissed. "She's no one to worry about if you're a good, law-abiding American citizen."

Josh tried to take that in stride. "Okay. But is she going to peel my face off if I admit I'm suspicious or scared of her?"

Tony grinned. "No. It'll make her day."

Josh gave him a measuring look. "You sure you're doing the right thing here, man?" he asked.

Tony couldn't blame him for asking. If he was the one hearing one of his oldest, best friends talk about falling in love with an assassin, he'd voice his concerns too. But Josh's concern was unwarranted. Probably.

"I'm sure."

Josh took his word for it. "Okay. So why haven't you nailed her yet?"

Tony grimaced at the crude term in relation to Ziva, and Josh held up a brief, peacemaking hand. "Work," Tony replied with a shrug.

Something pinged in Josh's memory. "Doesn't that Gibbs dude have a rule or something about office relationships?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah, but…eh, it's more of a guideline. And that's not really what's stopping me. That rule is there to stop flings and drunken escapades at the office Christmas party."

"I thought you'd had plenty of drunken escapades at office Christmas parties," Josh pointed out.

"Yeah, but not with anyone I work with _closely_," Tony defended. "And not for, like…five years." His tone changed to one of horror. "Oh my God, it really has been that long. I don't even think I have a reputation anymore."

Josh thumped his shoulder. "Yeah, neither do I since I got married. Don't worry, man. You'll get used to it."

Tony cast his mind back over the last year. "I have had half a dozen conversations with the hot woman in accounts in the last couple of months, and I don't think we've flirted even once."

"Yeah? Well, if she knows your girlfriend is an assassin—"

"Ziva's not my girlfriend," Tony cut in.

"You sure about that?" Josh asked with a look that Tony thought was supposed to be significant, but which he didn't understand.

"Yes," Tony replied confidently.

Josh leaned over the table. "DiNozzo, I have been hearing you talk about this woman for five years. I have been hearing every awesome detail. I have been hearing all about her hotness, and her ninjaness, and her super spy abilities, and her cute little way of messing up words, and how cranky you get when you think she's screwing someone else." He stabbed his index finger into the table as he continued to make his point. "You work 15 hours a day with her and then hang out with her at night. You bought her a new couch when you puked on her old one." He paused as he prepared to deliver what he considered to be the most telling evidence. "And three months ago I watched you leave this very bar with my own two eyes in the middle of OSU's biggest game of the season to pick her up when her car broke down on the Beltway."

Tony twisted his lips. "It's a really busy road. She could've gotten hit."

Josh ignored him. "You really think you're not in a relationship with her just because you're not sleeping together?" He shook his head. "You are, DiNozzo. Just because you're not calling it that doesn't mean it's not true."

Josh reached for his beer and downed the last few gulps as Tony silently worked his way through that. The thought that he might already be in a relationship with Ziva didn't freak him out, which was enough to tell him that he really did want it and was serious about her. But at the same time, he wasn't entirely sure that Josh was right. Surely if they had something definitive going on, she would have said something. Right?

Well, maybe not. Ziva wasn't exactly conventional when it came to most things, and he didn't see why that should be any different when it came to relationships. Compared with Jeanne, Ziva was so relaxed about things she was practically asleep. Maybe they _were_ together. And if that was the case, why the hell had he been investing so much energy into stopping himself from touching her?

* * *

Across town, Ziva lay against the cool porcelain of her empty bathtub, trying to find relief from the heat and her fevered thoughts. She didn't know how much longer she could do this with him. The constant back and forth, parry and retreat, tease and torture and deny. If she had to pull away from him _one more time_ she was going to snap somebody's neck. This tension was not good for her mental or physical health.

She felt tense and coiled tight and she just couldn't relax. Her muscles were bunched, ready to propel her forward at any second. She'd felt like this throughout almost her entire career at Mossad, always hyper alert and ready for action. But these days she only felt that way around Tony, especially on those days when they'd shared a look or a touch that made it hard to control her breathing. She'd somehow get through the day and then lie on her bed when she got home and debate whether to go over to his place and just get it done. Tonight, she was almost sure that if he wasn't out with Josh, she would have been standing in his apartment right now with his body wrapped around her and her hands down his pants.

This denial of physical release was stupid, she decided. Why were they torturing themselves? Because of some stupid rule? They'd already broken that. Nothing explicit had been said, and they had made no agreements, but they were together. Weren't they? Neither of them had a date in…she could not even remember the last one she went on. She spent a great deal of her free time with him. She factored him into her plans, not just for the future but with things as small as leaving home ten minutes early to account for having to stop and grab him a coffee. He shared his movies with her and had started coming running with her. They had routines and had developed shorthand for their communication. Her aunts asked about him, and she was Facebook friends with his grandmother.

So, fine. They were basically already dating. The feelings were there, the intent was there, the gestures were there. The only thing missing was _the goddamn sex_. What the hell was holding her back from _that_? It certainly wasn't concern over what Gibbs would do if he found out. She was fairly sure that Gibbs already thought they were together, and so far he had not killed or fired them. They had continued to excel at their jobs, and so Gibbs had no cause to complain. Would the onset of a sexual relationship really change things at work that much? Ziva really doubted it.

But she didn't have doubts about him. She knew for sure was that she wanted him—as a best friend, as a partner, as a long-term significant other-type person that she could have a lot of sex with. It was easy, and sometimes necessary, to pretend that she wasn't completely in love with him, and that she didn't know with certainty that he felt it too. But sometimes she thought it would be so much healthier if they just stopped all the damn pretending.

_Tomorrow_, she decided. _We will have end of case drinks and we will resolve this. One way, or another._

**

* * *

A little note about this 'we're actually already in a relationship' thing. Although this story is set out of canon, this is the kind of vibe I'm getting from them on the show at the moment and it inspired this chapter. Regardless of what did or did not happen in **_**Jetlag**_**, the sense I get is that they're already together and are vaguely aware of it, but don't really feel the need to have a long, drawn out conversation about it because they're on the same page. That's just my two cents. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I keep saying it, but it still needs to be said: you guys are freaking awesome for all the amazing, wonderful and encouraging feedback you've been giving. I can't believe I waited six months to post this thing when it has ended up being so well received. I hope you continue to enjoy it.**

**Also, I am aware that it's taken ages to get this part up. It's been bugging me all week. But this chapter is extra long to make up for it.**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

The Boudoir Bar was almost filled to capacity when the Gibblets turned up just after 8pm the next night. The four of them shot each other confused looks as they stood on the street outside. Since when did bars need security on the door on a Monday night?

"Maybe it's a private party," McGee tried.

But Abby shook her head, determined to try out the new bar. "No, it's just word of mouth or something. I checked their website. They have margaritas the size of fishbowls. Everyone wants a piece of that, right?"

"Maybe we should go someplace—"

Abby cut McGee off with a stern finger. "No! It's _my_ turn to pick, and I want to go here. Now are you with me, or are you going to wait on the street all night?"

McGee didn't have a chance to reply before Abby spun on her heel and made some kind of gang symbol at the bouncer. He stepped aside with a cool nod, and the other three shrugged at each other before following her.

They were no more than two steps inside when they were almost forced back again by a wall of heat and noise. If they thought it was sweltering outside, it was boiling inside the large room. There was a long bar on a platform to the right, and booths and tables along the far wall and halfway down the room. Ottomans big enough for three sat against the street windows, silks hung from the ceiling, and mirrors in ornate frames hung against textured wallpaper. A large chandelier hung above the bar and several smaller ones gave dim light to the booths. The dance floor at the end of the room was lit by sweeping golden lights, and was currently heaving under a mass of people moving to the DJ's beats. It wasn't the kind of place the four of them would usually agree on, but that was why they took turns to pick the venue for after-case drinks.

Ziva took one look at the line for the bar and the overrepresentation of Y-chromosomes pouring the drinks, and took Abby's elbow.

"We will get the drinks," she told the others. "You find a place to sit."

Tony looked over at the riot waiting to happen. "You're not going to start karate chopping through the crowd, are you?"

"I will be stealth. No one will know it was me," she assured him with a wink, and then tugged Abby away.

Tony watched them disappear into the crowd and then gestured at McGee. "Let's see what kind of football player you would have made."

McGee made a face, but turned and started fighting his way through the crowd in search of an empty booth. The bar was so full that the dance floor had extended past the tables, making it hard to move through the din with any kind of speed or ease. They were both straining their necks to see past the dancers for free tables, but all they could see was a sea of bodies, all gyrating to the deafening beat of the music thumping through the speakers. The air was thick and hot, charged like Tony had never experienced before, and it made every hair on his body stand on end.

In the back corner of the room, McGee spotted two people leave a booth and he shoved his way through the crowd in his determination to claim it before everyone else did. He threw himself behind the table, stared down three guys in suits, and shoved the small collection of empty glasses left behind to the head of the table. Tony arrived a few seconds later with a bemused smile and a cock of his head.

"Not bad, McGeek," he said. "Did I just see you use the Vulcan nerve grip on someone?"

"I shoved her nicely but she wouldn't move."

Ten minutes later, Tony decided that Abby and Ziva had been gone so long that they'd either bailed on them or Ziva really had started hitting people and they'd been thrown out.

"What the hell's taking so long?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently.

Once again, McGee displayed his preternatural powers of patience. "There were about a hundred people in line ahead of them, Tony."

Tony looked at him like he was testing his patience. "Yeah, Timmy. That's why we sent the two beautiful women in there. It was a total cock forest behind the bar. They would've gotten served years ahead of us."

McGee bit back his smirk at Tony's antsy mood. The senior agent was always making fun of Tim's love life. It was fun to see Tony nervous and tense for once. "Maybe they got caught up talking to some 25-year-old doctors slash models."

Tony rolled his eyes at McGee's weak attempt to make him jealous, and stood to made use of the foot-high platform the booths were on and his natural height to scan the crowd of writhing and rolling bodies. From his position above them, it seemed as though they were all lost in the beat, sharing the pulsing rhythm of the music as sweaty bodies pushed and moved as one. Everywhere he looked, flesh touched flesh, rubbing and flexing. The lights created a rainbow of color across them and the dancers moved under it in elated uniformity. A sea of glittering gold, bare shoulders and clothes of all hues reflecting and merging in the colorful wonderland. Lace, silk, sequins, spandex and skin. So much skin on skin. He couldn't deny that it was amazingly erotic, and a part of him wanted to get out there in the middle of it, to feel the euphoria that the dancers were feeling, and to soak himself in the simmering heat.

His skin was practically burning with the heat their bodies were creating, so different to the choking heat on the street outside. This heat was prickling with excitement and promise, as if just about anything could happen. Every time the music pulsed and the crowd swayed, the euphoric drug in the air got a better hold on him. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself but it was useless. Every single nerve ending was alive and tingling.

He was about to climb down and shove himself into the fray when, like a magnet, his eyes snapped to Ziva. She was leading Abby through the crowd, the drinks in her hands raised to head level to avoid spilling them on the floor. Her hips were swaying with each step she took as she let her body move to the rhythm of the music. Tony's fists clenched involuntarily as his eyes slid from the rocking of her hips, up where the hem of her top had ridden up to expose a tantalizing inch of golden, toned stomach. Her face was flushed and hair was messed and tangled. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that she'd just had a quickie in the coat check.

He licked his dry lips and swallowed sandpaper as he continued to watch her make her way slowly through the crowd. Her dark eyes flitted around the dancers that enveloped her, and a knowing smile stretched her pink lips. The collective ecstasy around her and sensual heat in the air was hard to ignore, and Tony found himself hoping that she, like him, was not immune to its effects.

Ziva managed to squeeze through the last line of dancers and into relative freedom, and paused to check that Abby was still behind her. The Goth came through the crowd a moment later, her eyes wide with disbelief. Ziva shot her a look of acknowledgement. This place had a natural atmosphere that Ziva couldn't ever remember feeling in a crowd before, but she put it down to the never-ending heat wave that seemed to have settled over the city for good.

"This has got to be a fire hazard," she had to yell into Abby's ear.

"A water canon would not go astray right now," Abby agreed, and then lifted her chin, gesturing towards McGee's waving hand in the booth. Ziva led the way.

Although she was no longer surrounded by bodies, Ziva still felt their heat and disturbance of air around her. Being on the floor felt like being caught in the centre of a giant choreographed spasm of energy. It was invigorating and fantastically erotic, and her skin was sizzling with pleasure. There was no doubt about it—she was now incredibly turned on, thanks to gallons of pheromones that seemed to be drenching everyone in the room, and sudden thoughts of Tony's mouth and hands. That was the kicker, she knew. She could try to blame her worked up state on the charge of electricity in the air, but it was her utterly desirable and very nearly attainable partner that had liquid sex running through her veins.

When they reached the table, Tony looked up at her with dark eyes that almost had her climbing into his lap. It appeared that he was as affected by the atmosphere as she was. Good. Her patience for this particular game of back-and-forth was almost gone.

"This place is insane," Abby was declaring as she and Ziva set their haul of drinks on the table. "I'll need hair and blood samples to be sure, but I'm pretty sure everyone here is on ecstasy."

With her hands free, Ziva slid her jacket off her shoulders and tossed it past Tony's face into the corner of the booth. He got a lungful of her scent as the jacket whizzed past and he had the almost overwhelming urge to pick it up and bury his face in it. But that would have been creepy.

"You didn't see any of the bartenders slip anything into the drinks, right?" McGee checked, only half joking.

Ziva let Abby and McGee carry the conversation as she slid into the booth next to Tony and passed him a tumbler of whisky. It would have been polite to leave a few inches of space between them, but her fuzzy, heat-soaked brain told her she had to get closer. The denim of his jeans rasped against the now tingling skin of her thigh, and Ziva thought that the heat in the room had soared even more. She could feel Tony's eyes on her and prayed that he couldn't see her suddenly shaking hands.

Tony's eyes weren't on her hands. He was currently watching the way her hair fell in tangled waves over her bare shoulders, and wondering what it would be like to feel that hair trail over his naked chest. He felt a sudden, familiar tug in his pants and quickly shook the thought away. They'd barely arrived and already he was having to remind himself that stripping her down and pulling her into his lap in a public place was illegal. Especially if he didn't ask first. He'd have to pace himself.

* * *

An hour later, in the part of Tony's lust-drugged brain that wasn't focused on Ziva's tongue darting out to wet her lips, he recognized that someone was saying his name. With great effort, he tore his gaze from Ziva and looked over at Abby and McGee's bemused faces.

"_What_?" It came out much harder than he intended.

"Another drink?" Abby asked.

Tony shook his head. He was light-headed enough without adding another shot of chemicals to his brain. And he didn't want to be drunk if he and Ziva finally got their act together tonight. It really felt like something was going to happen, but maybe it was just the atmosphere of the bar that was messing with his radar. Even still, he wanted the clarity of sobriety so that if they did finally take that step, he would be able to remember every. Single. Touch.

"Ziva?" McGee tried.

Tony looked at his partner, but she seemed to be off in her own little world as she gazed at the table in front of Tony and ran her index finger up and down the side of her water glass. Tony looked back to McGee and shrugged. He hadn't witnessed her _vacant stare at the furniture_ look before, and wasn't familiar with what it meant.

If only he knew, it would become one of his favorites. In the heat and crowd of the bar, with Tony's body pressed against her side, Ziva was utterly focused on the thought of kissing him. No, not just kissing him. She wanted to climb into his lap and sink down on him as one of his hands—those big, strong hands that made her pulse race—slid over her back, up her neck and into her hair.

She came out of her daze only when McGee knocked the table as he and Abby got out of the booth. She watched them go, but her eyes soon glazed over again as she extended her senses to feel the warm tension in Tony's body beside her.

"McGee thinks that we should talk," Tony suddenly said, deciding to take advantage of the momentary privacy.

Her head barely turned towards him as she pulled herself out of her sweet haze. "We talk one hundred and fifty seven million times a day," she pointed out, rolling her shoulders to try to work out some of the tension.

Tony glanced at her, and away again. "Yeah, but not about…" He trailed off, because he honestly didn't know how to say it, but he knew she'd get it.

"Since when do you take advice from McGee?"

She had a point. "You're saying you don't think we need to talk."

"I do not think it is necessary," she sighed, even as her heart pounded. "We are on the same sheet."

Tony's lips quirked at her slip. "Page," he corrected.

"I like mine better."

Tony thought about his conversation with Josh the night before, and the realization he'd come to afterwards. Maybe Ziva really was just cool about their relationship and didn't feel the need to dissect every tiny little thing. He always thought that a woman like that would have been the answer to all his prayers. No pressure, no long-winded and drawn out conversations about how they felt and where the relationship was going. And yet here they were, and Tony found that _he_ was the one who sought definition.

"My _sheet_ doesn't say anything about flings," he said with a stuttering heart, needing to make it clear.

"I have no idea what throwing things has to do with—"

"It's a colloquial term," he cut in, knowing as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he'd need to explain them. "Short-term, meaningless fun-having."

Ziva considered that. "So you would rather have long-term, meaningful stress-having?"

"The fun can stay, but yes to the other two."

She glanced at him with a confident gaze. "Same sheet, Tony."

Tony stared at his empty glass with a frown. That was it? That was the big, scary conversation they'd been avoiding for God only knew how long? He exhaled deeply with a mix of incredulity and relief. She was right. He _shouldn't_ listen to McGee.

"So when does the fun-having begin?" he dared to ask.

Ziva rested her head against the back of the booth as she turned to look at him with a smile he found unbelievably sexy. "It started years ago."

He couldn't drag his eyes from her mouth. "Yeah, but that's largely been abstract fun. I'm talking about tangible fun that I can hold in my hands."

She gave him that Mona Lisa smile that made him crazy, leaned close and lowered her voice. "When have I ever told you to take your hands off me?"

With the exception of a few huge fights, Tony knew she never had. She had always encouraged his contact. When he poked her, she poked right back. He invaded her space only to find that she was already taking up most of his. She watched him like he watched her, let him learn her expressions and her gestures, and somewhere along the line, she crawled under his skin and made herself at home.

He tried to imagine what his life would be like now if she'd only been in the US for a week, as originally planned. All the things about her that he would have forgotten or never even noticed—her smell, her walk, the little freckle on the back of her neck, the faint scars on her knuckles, the distinctive swing of her hips, the dark in her eyes, her taste…he wouldn't have known any of it.

Her taste was what he wanted to get reacquainted with right this second, and her expression told him that she wouldn't mind one bit. Except that by the time he started leaning towards her, Abby and McGee were sliding back into the booth. He caught Ziva's brief scowl as he reluctantly pulled back, and gave himself a little head slap in penance. Barely satisfied, Ziva nonetheless turned her scowl on Abby and McGee before reaching for her fresh mojito and sucking half of it down in one go.

Tony turned his attention to Abby's quick fire explanation of the mythology behind a witch's broomstick. Okay, perhaps 'attention' was stretching it a bit, but his eyes were on her and he knew her speech rhythms well enough to know when he was supposed to smile and nod. It was enough to make it look like he was paying attention.

Ziva didn't bother. As Abby and McGee started discussing the finer points of…well, Ziva couldn't actually understand _what_ exactly, Tony's hand brushed against her bare thigh. Her entire leg erupted in gooseflesh despite the maddening heat, and Ziva tucked her hair behind her ear and reached for her drink to cover the barrage of impure thoughts that again filled her head. She glanced at Tony just as he looked her way, and he gave her a small, intimate smile that made her wonder if he'd acquired powers of telepathy. That smile would be her undoing, she was certain. And right now it felt like she'd be undone sooner rather than later.

She shifted slightly in her seat, just enough so that she could get away with watching him while the others talked without drawing attention to the fact. She liked to watch him, as he liked to watch her. There was something about it that always felt a little like foreplay to her, and after the last two days of stares and glances and _almosts_, she was ready for that foreplay to begin in earnest.

_Get on with the fun-having already._

She started her examination of him with his eyes. Eyes that changed color with the light. The brighter it got, the greener they became. But in the dim, like now, they were more of a blue-grey. She wondered what color they would turn against the Tiffany blue of her bedroom wall, or the white of her sheets. Would they be blue or green when he moaned her name and rose above her? Blue-grey and dark with lust, or bright and green with ecstasy? Ziva couldn't wait to find out.

Her eyes fell over smooth cheeks to the strong line of his jaw that just begged to be kissed. Ziva had often thought of reaching over to plant her hand on that jaw to pull him to her. She recalled in delectable detail how _he_ liked to do that when he kissed, and anticipation flared in her for the next time he would claim her like that. She thought of kissing her way along that jaw with lips pricked by stubble, of swirling her tongue over the joint to sample his taste, and added them to her extensive mental _to do with Tony_ list.

That was, if she was able to pull herself from his mouth. The man had to have the most valuable mouth she'd ever known. The smile was utterly distinctive and infectious, and Ziva had no doubt that it had gotten him into and out of trouble a million times over. But it wasn't just the smile that was valued. Anthony DiNozzo was a man who knew how to kiss. She didn't know whether he had instinctively known how to kiss her, or whether it was just the way he kissed everyone, but he had just about managed to make her forget not just her name but also the mission they had been on during their night undercover. At the time it had been dangerously easy to respond to him, and though he controlled it, Ziva had not minded one bit. After two seconds she had complete faith in his ability to lead the embrace, if not the mission. She thought of how close they'd come yesterday to giving in to the temptation to try it out again, and made another resolution to kiss him before the night was done.

Her eyes now slid over his shoulder as he leaned forward in his seat to gaze at his back…oh, she loved his back. He had delicious, gently sculpted shoulders that spoke to his former life as an athlete, and Ziva remembered that night again, when she'd sat astride his hips to knead the hard muscles, she had the almost overwhelming urge to kiss her way down the valley of his spine.

Her eyes licked their way down to his forearms…and there was that shiver of arousal again. She didn't know why his forearms and hands undid her. They just looked so strong and male and…God, she knew it was ridiculous, but every time he rolled up his shirtsleeves she got a flutter in her stomach and wondered if she'd get lucky and he would grab her.

Her gaze flicked over to his chest, and she conjured very recent memories of it naked and sweaty and right in front of her face. Just as she had on Saturday morning, she thought of the weight of that chest pressing her into a mattress. Another wave of arousal rolled between her legs, and this time she couldn't control her full body shiver. It was blatant enough to draw both Abby and McGee's eyes, and McGee raised a curious eyebrow.

Ziva cleared her throat. "Nothing. Someone walked over my grave." Was that the saying? Whatever. She didn't care. She'd formed a full sentence, and if any of them didn't understand what she'd said she could blame cultural differences.

McGee didn't look convinced but he turned away again. Abby, however, held Ziva's gaze with a questioning look. Not a look that asked what was wrong, but a look that asked if she wanted Abby and McGee to leave. Ziva gave her a subtle, begging look in response, and Abby gave a single, barely perceptible nod in reply.

"You know, I think I might go," Abby suddenly said. "Cuz it's a school night and…Mondays, you know? It's really hard to get a cab because it's so busy out there on Mondays." She nudged McGee and set her jaw as she ordered him with her eyes to back her up.

McGee nodded as though her excuse wasn't completely lame, and they weren't both aware that Tony and Ziva were one more look away from getting arrested for indecent exposure. "Yes. I will go also. Look for a cab," he said robotically.

The two of them gathered their things and then slid out of the booth. Neither Tony nor Ziva moved.

"Bye, guys!" Abby called, keeping up appearances despite never expecting a reply.

Tony silently watched them go, and when he turned back to Ziva, he found her already looking at him. For the longest time they just stared at each other as their breathing became more and more shallow. Ziva was burning up from his intense gaze, the fire twisting and spreading within her until finally, she could no longer just sit there. She pushed herself out of her half-reclined position and sat upright, then turned so that her heated chest was brushing his arm.

"Do you want to go too?" he asked with a thick voice, thinking but not hoping that she might be ready to call it a night.

Ziva looked at him for a few long seconds. "Go where?" she finally asked, and Tony heard the invitation. If he wanted her to go home with him right now, she'd go.

The long, heavy stare continued as Tony tried to work out why he was so goddamn nervous all of a sudden. He summoned enough courage to lean towards her as he slowly slid his hand onto her smooth, bare thigh and let his fingers dip into the unfathomable warmth between her knees. He tilted his head until she inclined hers, and for a moment he hovered there, stoking the fire, testing her nerve. Ziva sucked in a breath as her skin charged under his palm…and in the next breath the bar abruptly plunged into darkness.

Tony snapped his hand back whip fast with the irrational and arrogant thought that the two of them touching had overloaded the circuit board. The music in the bar was replaced with boos and yells, and a voice strained to be heard above them all.

"Everyone out!" one of the bartenders yelled. "Power's gone, we gotta close. Move to the door calmly!"

Ziva's head was spinning from the sudden, disorienting change in her surroundings, but she was able to understand the gist of the instructions. She felt around for her jacket and slid it on, and then picked up her bag. She felt Tony's elbow knock her as he struggled into his own jacket, and then his hand was on hers and he was pulling her out of the booth.

**

* * *

**

**So…I hope that was, um, good for people. I know I'm dragging this out. That's the point. But I hope it's enjoyable all the same.**

**Housekeeping note: There should be one more chapter rated T, and then the final ones will be bumped up to M for safety. That means the story won't appear on the NCIS main page anymore. If you want to keep following, either remember to look over on the M pages or add it to your story alerts. (Sorry, I know that sounds kind of desperate and needy, but I'm actually just trying to be helpful and practical.)**

**One more thing: Hee…cock forest. Man, that makes me laugh.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry to make you wait for a chapter that doesn't really do much more than bridge two others. Real life has been somewhat draining of late.**  
**Like I said before, if you want to keep following and can't trust your memory to check over on the M pages after this, you might want to add the story to your alerts.**  
**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Ziva held on to the back of Tony's jacket as they threaded their way through the throng of people all trying to exit to bar at once. With the air conditioners no longer running, and everyone standing shoulder to shoulder, the heat settled on Ziva's skin like a blanket, making it hard to breathe and harder to keep her frustration under control. From the way that Tony suddenly started pushing through the crowd like a line backer, she thought it was likely he felt the same. She held his hand tighter so that she wouldn't lose him.

When they made it to the street, Ziva wondered if they should have stayed inside. The heat was no less severe, and now they were being pounded with heavy, hard pellets of rain. Tony made a dash for the final empty square foot of space under a nearby shop awning, and the two of them stood chest-to-aching-chest among six other people seeking shelter from the storm that had broken the heat wave and knocked out the power.

"I _really_ wasn't looking for a cold shower right now," Tony said into her ear, almost shouting to be heard over the thunder and rain.

His hand settled heavily in the small of her back as Ziva looked over his shoulder at the night sky. She could make out the silhouette of thunderclouds overhead, illuminated in stunning form by brilliant stabs of lightning every few seconds. The entire street was blacked out, lit only by passing car headlights and the light show above.

She looked down at their feet, and momentarily mourned for her favorite black sandals. Rainwater was running down the sidewalk and spilling into her shoes, soaking her feet. Her lower legs were being splattered by the raindrops that rebounded from the ground, and Tony's jeans were wet to the ankle.

As she took in the deluge, Tony's eyes drank in the sight of her. The rain had dampened her hair and face, and she looked so damn good that a whoosh of air left him. He gripped the back of her jacket as he felt his lower extremities start to make themselves known, and barely resisted the urge to shove his hips into her.

Ziva finished her surveillance of the area and looked up at him to find his eyes on her mouth again. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. "I like it."

He dragged his eyes up to hers, and after a suspended, indecisive moment, he looked down the street again. "What do you want to do?" he asked, and then cleared his throat to strengthen his voice. "We could try to flag down a cab, but…" He gestured at the dozens of people gathered outside the bar, all waving frantically at passing cars. "Someone already had that idea."

The rolling thunder gave way to a deafening crack, making them both wince.

"How far is your place?" she asked. "A few blocks?"

Tony looked up the street in the direction of his building. "I think…three up and one over."

Ziva had run further than that when dodging bombs and land mines. This would be a picnic. "Let's just run for it."

Tony looked up at the sky, and she could tell that he didn't really want to. But what choice did he have? "Okay, but you have to towel me down afterwards."

Ziva smirked and looked down at his mouth. Yeah, she didn't think that would be much of a problem. She nodded at him, and the next thing she knew, Tony had grabbed her hand and was pulling her out into the storm.

They were both breathing hard when they reached Tony's building, and huddled under the small awning while he searched for the right key to the door. With her face just inches from his and her heart pounding in her chest, Ziva watched a rivulet of water as it made its way down the side of Tony's face, over that kissable jaw and down his neck. The good, low down tingles that she'd been feeling all night fired up again, and she thought that she had never wanted to lick him more—including the time when she actually had. But before she could satisfy her urge, Tony finally got the door open and led her into the foyer to his building.

"Stairs," Tony sighed when he realized the lifts wouldn't be working. "Damn it, I can barely see—" He was cut off by a crack of thunder and a blinding shot of lightning. Ziva chuckled as Tony took her hand once again. "Okay, that was actually helpful."

They felt their way through the dark to the stairway, and when Tony tripped on the first step, Ziva finally let go of the giggles that had been bubbling inside her for the last 15 minutes.

"Are you alright?" she checked.

In truth, Tony's wrist throbbed from bracing himself on the stairs, but he hated complaining to superhero Ziva about anything less than a horrific bullet wound.

"Do you even care?" he threw at her without malice, but laying on the guilt trip in response to her laughter.

Ziva pulled him to his feet and the momentum carried him towards her until his body was pressing hers against the wall.

"Of course I do," she managed to reply as his chin brushed her cheek. "You are of no use to me injured."

He didn't respond, but hovered in front of her, his weight still heavy against her and his hot breath on her face—a flip from the position they'd found themselves in the day before. Instead of Tony pulling her hips closer, this time she arched her back and pushed herself into him. Unlike yesterday, neither of them had any intention of doing the 'rational' thing and running away—except for together, right now, up to his apartment. Tony drew a deep breath as he gathered his strength, and ran his hand down her arm to grip her fingers before he pushed away from her.

The slow pace they had to take up the completely dark stairs was beyond irritating, but absolutely necessary in the pitch black. Tony's foot kicked something that tinged against the stairs like glass, and he spared a thought for Ziva's almost bare feet.

"Try not to step on any crack pipes or needles, okay?" he said.

"Got it," Ziva replied, then immediately tripped on a step and swore in Hebrew.

Tony smirked. "Stealth, Ziva," he teased, rolling his eyes. He had no doubt that she'd still be able to kick his ass now, if the mood so took her (though she was clearly, magnificently in the mood for something else). But his ninja's moves did lack a certain finesse after she'd had a few drinks.

His hand hit a corner, and he pulled Ziva to the left with him.

"It smells like wet dog and…urine in here," Ziva said. "I did not think you were allowed to have pets in this building."

"I'm not," he confirmed, then winced as his hand hit something sticky on the wall.

"Did your mother really drink your monkey things?" she asked, recalling a conversation from a few years ago.

"Yep," he sighed. "Good thing I didn't have a dog."

Ziva tripped and swore again.

"Kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Not for many years," Ziva replied. "And how do you even know what I am saying?"

"Superior powers of deduction," Tony replied as they started on what he was sure was the last flight of stairs. "You always say that after something goes wrong. Also? It just _sounds_ dirty."

When they made it to his apartment, they both peeled off their soaking jackets and hung them on the back of his door. It was lighter in there than it was in the hallway and the stairwell thanks to the large windows in Tony's living room, but it was still as dim as dusk.

"You want a shower or something?" Tony offered. "The gas should still be working."

Ziva slipped off her sandals and kicked them to the corner beside the door. "Just a towel."

He brushed past her en route to the linen closet next to the bathroom, pulled out a fresh towel, and then walked right into her as he turned to hand it to her. "Sorry, here." Damn ninja stealth.

Ziva took the towel, and gave him a smile he couldn't quite read before she started running it over her bare arms. He watched her for a little longer than was probably good for his sanity, and then slipped past her again.

"You want a drink?" he called back to her.

"Please," she replied from right behind him again.

While he busied himself with trying to find glasses in his dark kitchen cupboards, he cut a few sneaky looks in her direction. She was talking about some storm she'd gotten caught in off the coast of Greece once, but all Tony could focus on was the way she was dragging that towel up and down her gorgeous legs. Man, she had great legs. She always wore jeans or cargo pants and he almost never got to see them, but tonight she was in a skirt that stopped at mid-thigh, and he wondered if he'd be able to take his eyes off those long, toned, golden legs.

If he was being honest, she had to have probably the best legs he'd ever seen in real life. He'd had a long relationship with Elle MacPherson's legs when he was younger, but never had the opportunity to see them in the flesh. But Ziva's…we'll he'd been lucky enough, many moons ago, to feel those legs clamped around his hips, and he'd never quite gotten the feeling out of his head. Her thighs, in particular, were as close to perfection as he'd ever get. Impossibly smooth and golden skin encased frighteningly strong muscles with just the right amount of give in the flesh…

"Tony!" Ziva said sharply, and he quickly lifted his eyes to her face.

"Huh?"

"Are you going to hand it over, or do I have to wrestle you for it?" she asked.

Confused, Tony looked down at his hands. Both held a glass of water, and he realized he must have gotten sidetracked on his way to giving her one. Still, wrestling a wet Ziva wasn't the worst thing he could think of to do with his night. Although he could certainly think of a few better things.

He handed her a glass. "It's a good look for you."

Ziva took it and shot him a look that on a normal day would be all tease. Tonight, he knew it wasn't. "Half naked and wet?"

"Exactly," he said. "You want to borrow a t-shirt or something?"

Ziva plucked at her tank top that had been completely covered under her zipped jacket. "No, it will dry fast." And she didn't plan on wearing it for long.

Tony took a step towards her and tried to burn this picture into his memory—Ziva standing before him, eyes dark and liquid, lips pink and inviting, and hair beginning to dry in the natural curls that he hadn't seen in forever. It was the stuff that his dreams were made of—hell, the whole night had been—and he couldn't quite believe that he'd managed to more or less keep his hands off her when he just wanted her so damn much.

Enough of that. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't pine and want and ache and conjure her into his arms. He had to take. He had to give in. Because this tension was scrambling his thoughts and turning him mad.

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Okay, so I know this isn't a great place to stop. I'm not trying to be evil, but the next bit will need a higher rating. See you over on the M pages in a few days' time.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Alright, people. I mean it. This final chapter contains decidedly adult themes, as reflected by the new M rating. I tried (and failed, I think) not to make this a blatant smut-fest, but if you're under aged or if you're just not into reading this stuff, then thanks very much for coming this far but you should probably call it a day now.  
****To the rest of you filthy pervs (I say it with **_**love**_**), I think I've teased you long enough. This chapter is muuuch longer, but I think you'll probably forgive me.  
Disclaimer: So disclaimed. Really.**

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Tony took a step towards her and tried to burn this picture into his memory—Ziva standing before him, eyes dark and liquid, lips pink and inviting, and hair beginning to dry in the natural curls that he hadn't seen in forever. It was the stuff that his dreams were made of—hell, the whole night had been—and he couldn't quite believe that he'd managed to more or less keep his hands off her when he just wanted her so damn much.

Enough of that. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't pine and want and ache and conjure her into his arms. He had to take. He had to give in. Because this tension was scrambling his thoughts and turning him mad.

Tony took her hips in trembling hands and slowly backed her up until she was against his living room wall. Ziva's breath caught as he leaned in towards her, and the closeness sent the temperature between their faces skyrocketing. His damp chest pressed against hers and his hands slid from her hips around to the small of her back, holding her against him firmly as his head dipped closer and closer. The smell of him—his skin, his soap, the hint of his cologne—hit her like a tidal wave, and she didn't bother trying to stifle her moan as thousands of endorphins were suddenly released into her bloodstream and made her tingle from head to toe.

She held his gaze as he continued to invade her space, until finally he veered downwards and his mouth went to her neck. Ziva closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall, baring her throat to his ministrations. She could feel the burning presence of his mouth hovering just millimetres above her sensitive flesh, and gripped his t-shirt as her skin flushed hot under his lips.

Without touching her, Tony slowly moved his mouth up her neck to just under her ear, then slowly down again to the juncture of her throat and shoulder. Up and down, up and down, over and over as he teased and tortured her for as long as he could stand to. When he finally brought his lips down, the rush of blood south made Ziva's thighs weak and her head light. Her hand flew up to hold the back of his head, forcibly keeping him right there—_yes, right there_. She half moaned his name against his ear, and his answering groan reverberated against her skin. He sucked on the thin, sensitive flesh right below her ear, and she heaved a pleasure-soaked sigh, which turned into a moan of protest when his lips left her throat. She opened her eyes, ready to argue, but found his face hovering in front of hers again, his delectable mouth curled in that way that never failed to make her heart stutter. His eyes, usually so warm and glinting with a joke, were now dark, serious and predatory, and Ziva could scarcely believe that after all this time, he was turning that look on her.

"God, you smell so good," he whispered softly to her. The scratch in his voice turned the throb in her up a few notches.

Ziva lifted her chin to finally catch his mouth, but Tony saw her coming and he wasn't quite done with the torture yet. He dodged out of the way just as her lips brushed his, and he knew by the way her body tensed against him that she did not appreciate the move. Still, he knew it would be worth it in the end.

Ziva barely tamped down the impulse to stamp her foot and scream. "Tony," she started warningly.

Usually that tone of voice struck fear into his heart. But tonight, he wouldn't be rushed. He knew what he wanted to do—had been thinking about it for going on five years—and he needed to make it last. He slowly ran his hands up her sides, making her jump with the tickle, and lifted her arms above her head. When he was sure that she would hold them there, he kissed the tip of her nose and brought his hands down to the hem of her tank top. He held her gaze as he slid the material up, his fingertips barely grazing her skin as he stripped it off her and dropped it on the floor.

Ziva watched him as his eyes fell to her almost naked torso, and if she thought that the teasing, lusty looks her gave her across their desks were hot, they were nothing on this. As he dipped his head towards her again, Ziva realized that her heart was now beating so hard that her whole body was rocking from it. She brought her hands down to rest on his shoulders, giving her the balance that she feared she was about to loose, and then tightened her grip when he kissed the hollow of her throat.

Tony slowly worked his way down, dropping kisses on her collarbone, her chest, between the curve of her breasts, under her bra, above her belly button, and down the waistband of her skirt. His fingertips followed the trail his mouth made, skimming with a maddening lightness that caused her skin to erupt in gooseflesh and a frustrated cry to escape her lips. Tony had a brief moment of mercy as he gently nipped the curve of her belly over her skirt, and then got to his knees before he undid the button on her skirt and pulled down the zip. The skirt fell to pool at her feet with a damp slap, and Ziva looked down at the top of his head as he brushed his lip along the sensitive under-curve of her belly across to her right hip. She gasped and her hips bucked at the tickle, and she did it again when he ran his lips across her skin to kiss her other hip.

Instinctively, Ziva's hands went to his hair as she directed him further down and to the middle, but Tony bypassed the place she wanted him to kiss and instead gave a little nip and lick to the smooth, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. He wrapped one hand behind her knee and lifted her leg before moving the skirt out of the way and lowering her leg again. He did the same with the other leg and swept the skirt away from her feet completely, and then paused as he undid the strap around her right leg that held her knife. He glanced up briefly with an amused smile as he tossed the knife onto the coffee table, but Ziva either didn't catch or didn't get the joke. Her eyes were half closed as she concentrated on the feeling of his hands on her thighs and his hot breath just below the juncture of her legs.

The scent of her arousal made Tony's mouth water, and he cocked his head just a fraction until his mouth was hovering right over her. Ziva pushed her hips forward, dying for his touch, and he took her hips between her hands as he leaned forward and pressed a firm, sucking kiss over her underwear. Ziva groaned and her hands tightened in his hair, but to her utter dismay he didn't stay where she wanted him to. Instead, Tony started kissing his way back up her body, all the way to her neck, and then pressed a kiss in front of her ear.

"Turn around," he directed, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

Ziva huffed and turned her face to his. "I would rather move things along, Tony."

He smirked as he took her by the shoulders and turned her. "You're not enjoying this?"

She would have laughed if she weren't so turned on. "I have been enjoying it _all week_," she sighed. She rested her forehead against the cool wall and spread her hands as if he was about to pat her down for weapons.

Tony took her long hair in his fist and wrapped it around his hand once, twice to lift it off the back of her neck. He pressed his body against her back and kissed her neck. "Well, I'm enjoying unwrapping you."

She rubbed her ass back against his lap, and a strong thrill shot through her at the growing hardness that pressed back. "You think I am a present?"

Tony slipped the strap of her bra off her shoulder and kissed the bare skin beneath it. "You didn't get me anything for my birthday." He switched his hands in her hair and slipped the other strap off her shoulder.

"I got you tickets to that OSU game you were desperate to go to," she pointed out, indignant even as his lips traveled down her spine.

Tony ran both hands down her back to the clasp of her bra. "Are you _really_ going to fight with me right now?" he asked, and then undid the clasp and moved her arms so that he could slide the black silk off her.

"I am just pointing out that…um…" Ziva lost her train of thought as Tony got to his knees again and kissed down to the small of her back.

Tony kissed the twin dimples above the flare of her ass that he loved so much, and then hooked his fingers into the sides of her underwear. Slowly, he drew it down her legs, and then kissed the backs of her thighs as he again lifted her feet to untangle the silk from her body. Then, he took a moment to sit back on his heels and look at her naked back, his eyes lingering on the ass that he had developed roughly thirty fantasies around in their time together. If he was really good, maybe he'd get the chance to make one or two of them a reality.

Ziva looked over her shoulder at him, and the raw desire in his eyes gave her an enormous shot of confidence. She turned around to face him but only had the patience to let him drink her in for a few moments before she put her hands on his shoulders and knelt down over him, straddling his lap. She roughly pulled his t-shirt over his head and flung it far away from them in her frustration.

"I do not possess your patience," she sternly told his smirk, and then finally—_finally!_—brought her mouth down on his.

She had intended to take it a bit slow, to make it like one of the kisses she dreamed of at night, but the heat and tension in the air and her own suffocating desire made her too greedy. She ran her tongue over his soft, full lower lip, begging for entrance, and he let her in quickly to slide his tongue against hers. She moaned into his mouth—_oh yes, I remember this_—and the sound went straight to Tony's groin. The hands that she fantasized about slid through her hair, gently tugging on the strands in the way he remembered had gotten a reaction when they went undercover, and her moan turned into a growl.

Ziva spared a thought for the fact that they were on the floor, and supposed they could have at least moved to the couch, but frankly, she didn't care. All she had the capacity to care about right now was Tony's insistent lips against hers, his hands in her hair and stroking her back, and his hard muscles creating glorious friction against her sensitized chest. She tunneled an arm around his neck and pulled him closer, tugging on his lip with her teeth then soothing with her tongue. He moaned as his senses became overwhelmed and again took possession of her mouth, stroking, teasing and nipping, and her instincts flared as she reacted to him. She was almost mindless from this first, real kiss.

She sank down hard on him and felt his cock straining against her. She felt herself soaking wet against him and wondered (hoped) if he could feel it through his pants. His hand squeezed her hips as she fit herself in the exact, perfect position in his lap, and he growled into her mouth. She felt the rumble through her chest and bit his lip gently in reply. His hips thrust up of their own accord, making her cry out and grind herself down, and she thought that the possibility of bursting into flames couldn't possibly be that remote, because this felt so good that it was almost painful.

She ran her hand down his chest and into his lap, and then shifted her hips back slightly so that she could stroke his length through his pants. Tony inhaled sharply at the touch, sucking the air out of her lungs and sliding his hands up to cup her breasts as he thrust into her palm. Atop him, Ziva squirmed in delight and bit down on his bottom lip, squeezing his cock deliciously at the same time. He groaned and pulled her hand away only to grip her hips in both hands and roughly pull her forward again, positioning her burning heat over him and pushing her hips down as he thrust up. Ziva cried out against his lips, a half-broken affirmation, as every nerve ending in her body fired. She bucked against him and her breath became sharp as she forgot about everything but the exhilarating sensations she was experiencing.

His hands slid up to cup her breasts and he swiped his thumb over her hard nipple, making her cry out and jump. He was vaguely aware of the stinging sensation of her nails digging into his shoulder, and took it as the encouragement that it was. He pulled his mouth from hers and kissed down her chest, then took one of her nipples in his mouth, licking and sucking as she writhed and moaned and whimpered on his lap. He heard her moan his name above him—a sound he was sure he would never get tired of—and he swore that he would be able to do this for hours.

As he moved to her other breast, he slipped his hand between her legs and dragged his fingers over her hot, wet flesh. Her heat was practically scalding on his fingers, and his cock twitched in his pants as he thought about the prospect of being buried inside her in the not-too-distant future. Ziva let out a loud cry as his fingertip found her tiny bundle of nerves, and he rubbed her a few times before he drew his finger lower and slid it inside her.

"Tony! God!" she cried out, burying her face into his neck and squeezing her eyes shut as the combined feeling of his mouth and hand sent intense stabs of pleasure through her.

A second finger joined the first and he felt her clench around him. A now constant symphony of moans and cries filled his ears as he drew them in and out, and he couldn't believe how much he was getting off not just on her enjoyment but on the sound and feel of her.

The scent of her arousal was heavy in the air, and Tony imagined it sinking into his own skin and marking him. By the end of this night, he wanted to smell like her. He wanted to be able to smell her on his hands when he sat as his desk tomorrow with his morning coffee. He wanted his sheets to smell like her. He wanted to be able to roll over in the morning three days from now and smell her in the fibres of his pillow.

When he felt her begin to tense too quickly, he withdrew his fingers and rested his hand on her thigh. Ziva's head snapped up at the sudden lack of touch and she shot him a displeased scowl. He gave her a big grin in response before sealing his mouth to hers again and pulling her right up against him. Everything about this kiss was perfect. She felt perfect against him. She smelled perfect. She tasted perfect. She kissed him perfectly. She sounded perfect. She was the perfect woman. In fact, the only thing that he would change would be that he'd have them on his bed instead of on the hard floor. He didn't know how her knees were holding up, but his were in desperate need of a position change.

He moved his hands back to her hips and gave her bottom lip a final nip. "Get up," he told her.

In response, Ziva applied just the slightest amount of pressure on his neck with her thumb and forefinger. "I am warning you," she began breathlessly, "that if you are about to say _anything_ about rules—"

Tony shook his head quickly and gave her another breathtaking kiss. "No. Knees. Bed."

"What?" she asked against his lips, finding it hard to process even single word sentences.

"Bed," he repeated. "You. On it. Now."

He wasn't sure that she got the whole message, but a moment later she broke the kiss and used his shoulders to push herself up on shaky legs. In the dim light he could barely make out the hint of wetness on the inside of her thigh, where he'd brushed his fingers after drawing them out of her. The sight had him very nearly pulling her hips back so that he could taste that wetness in his mouth, but Ziva gripped his hand and forcibly pulled him to his feet.

Her hands worked on his belt and the buttons on his jeans as he backed her towards the bedroom, and he was ridiculously proud of himself when he managed to step out of them without tripping. Ziva felt him hard against her belly, and her skilled fingers went lower to wrap around his length and swipe over his head. Tony sucked in a sharp breath, greedy for the touch, and his hands tightened in her hair as he growled into her mouth and kissed her harder. Ziva felt the reverberation through his chest and the tension through his hands, and she had a moment of satisfaction that she was not the only one who was losing herself to the moment.

The mattress loomed before Tony had expected it, and when the back of his legs hit the bed he fell without finesse. It got him where he wanted to be, though, and he grabbed Ziva's hand as he scooted back to sit against the headboard. Ziva was straddling his lap again in under a second, and Tony tented his knees behind her, keeping her close to his chest and slightly higher. It wasn't a position he usually went for on the first time, but it felt appropriate for Ziva. It was close and perfectly intimate, and it gave her control. For now.

Ziva gave him a quick, hot kiss as one of her hands snaked between them and she took him in her hand once more. She lifted herself on her knees and held his gaze with a small, provocative smile as she drew his head back and forth against her slit, letting him feel how wet she was.

"Ziva," he growled, his jaw tight as his hands went to her hips.

She drew her thumb against his mouth. "Tony," she replied, and then sank down on him.

Ziva's head dropped back as she felt him push through that first bit of resistance her body put up, and groaned his name as he filled her. Tony tried desperately to keep focus, but he was seeing stars as he was engulfed by her tight, wet heat. His hands clamped down on her hips and he tried not to cry with the effort of not moving. He wanted her to lead this—he'd always wanted her to lead their first time—but if the woman didn't rise up again soon he was _going to die_.

He may have said it aloud, he honestly wasn't sure, but a moment later Ziva started rolling her hips in a slow circle as she let her body adjust to his size. Then, without warning, she rose up and dropped herself back down on him—hard. Tony felt himself say what he thought may have been her name in a guttural, animalistic growl. He met her black eyes, full of want and desire before her lips found his with bruising force and he squeezed her against him.

She started snapping her hips back and forth at a lighting pace, expelling all the tension she'd been carrying for years. It was desperate and frenetic and drugging. Hot and sweaty and hard. Neither could have stopped now even if they wanted to. They were too far into it. Too far gone. There was barely any consciousness beyond the desperate need for release in each other, and getting there in the most exquisite way possible.

The small part of her brain that was currently functioning focused on how much she loved the smell of him like this. How much she loved the tension in his hands, his insistent mouth, the instinctive way he angled his hips to give her the most pleasure. She felt the fire catch in her pelvis, and clamped down on him as hard as she could to increase the intensity for them both. Tony yelled into her neck with the sublime pressure, and she tilted her hips forward as she ground down on his pelvic bone, putting as much pressure as she could stand where she needed it the most.

She snapped her hips even faster, grinding down and squeezing as the intense tingles started radiating out from her pelvis. She started chanting his name, over and over as she got closer and closer to release. Her hair fell across his face and her hands gripped his shoulders almost painfully, but Tony wouldn't say a word to stop her. He could feel the tension thrumming through her and he knew he wouldn't get there with her, but frankly, he was glad for it. This way, he got to watch in complete awe as Ziva tilted her head back, arched her back, and screamed at the ceiling as her orgasm took her over. Quickly, he moved his hand between her legs and put his thumb over her clitoris, causing her body to snap back in the other direction and her face to press into his neck as she cried out with another small explosion. Tony tapped her gently as she came down from her high, kissing her neck as he felt her walls contract over and over around him. That was, hands down, the best thing he had _ever_ seen.

He gave her a few seconds' grace, just until the edge wore off, before lifting her off him, tossing her back on the mattress, and then slamming himself back inside her. Ziva screamed again as her back arched off the mattress, and her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as she held on. She lifted her legs higher as Tony started driving himself into her, her mouth at his ear urging him deeper, asking for more. Her hands ran down his slick back and she nipped his neck, sending tendrils of pleasure down his spine as he picked up the pace and hurtled towards release. He wanted it to last longer, to stay inside her and feel this ecstasy the whole night. But he couldn't hold on, and he knew that he'd get a thousand more chances after this to make it last for hours.

He angled his hips down to try to catch Ziva's still-sensitive nub, determined to draw another orgasm out of her before he let himself go. She cried out and tightened her body around him again, and Tony knew he was hitting it just right. Just as she had done, he started breathing her name, over and over as his thrusts got sloppier and shallower as pure bliss took over all function of him. Ziva's cries became screams and she went through God only knew how many languages as she squeezed him again, impossibly tight as she came hard in his arms. Three more hard thrusts and Tony flew apart, grunting half her name as his Cro-Magnon side took over and he tried to bury himself as deep inside her as possible.

In the sudden quiet and stillness that followed, as she lay there with Tony's hot, heavy and sweaty body on top of her, Ziva stared up at the lightning flashing across the ceiling and unleashed a huge, indulgent smile. She couldn't believe it had finally happened. After all this time, after all the teasing and flirting and yes and no and _rules_, they had actually managed to get over themselves and just do it. And Ziva couldn't have been happier.

She looped her arms around his back and kissed his shoulder, as Tony's breaths continued to come in shallow bursts against the side of her neck. She could feel his heart running like a rabbit against her chest, and for a moment she was worried that he'd already fallen asleep. But in the next moment his head popped up, he tossed her a blindingly happy smile, and started dropping soft kisses all over her face and hips. Ziva was surprised by the sense of relief that smile brought. Not that she had expected that he would regret it, but that smile answered questions she hadn't thought of yet.

When he made to withdraw and roll off her, Ziva tightened herself around him again. "No, stay there. I am not done with you yet." Her voice was thick and her accent heavy, but Tony heard the intent loud and clear.

"I'm crushing you," he pointed out, and dropped another kiss to her lips. Man, she had the softest lips. Why the hell wasn't he kissing her every minute of the day?

She ran a firm hand down his back. "I like your weight on me."

He smiled against her cheek. "If that's really true, you're not allowed to make fun of my gut anymore."

Ziva snorted over a laugh, causing her muscles to contract around his softening cock and drawing an involuntary gasp out of him before he slipped out of her entirely. She groaned in protest, especially when he sat up, but he reached for her and pulled her with him until they were the right way up on the bed again. He settled on his back with Ziva draped half over his side, her leg heavy over his and her arm slung across his chest. As the blood rushing through his ears died down, Tony once again became aware of the storm raging on outside. Rain continued to smack against the window and thunder still rolled through the sky, but somehow, the ferocity that had been there an hour ago seemed to have drained out of it.

"Do you mind snuggling after sex?" he asked, as his mind wandered to what independent Ziva would usually be doing now.

Ziva stretched her leg before a cramp could form. "It is hot, but I will allow it," she told him, the smile in her voice telling him that she wouldn't admit to it but that she found it quite nice. "Are you a big talker after sex?"

"Not really," he said at length, giving her the truth but hoping he wasn't shooting himself in the foot at the same time.

"Neither am I," she assured him. "I would be happy to get a nap in before round two."

Tony shook his head at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he had done in his life that had him deserving her. "Okay. Just don't start without me."

As they drifted off, Tony let his thoughts wander over the highlights of the last few days, and how it was bound to change his life for the better. He thought of their brief but clear conversation that night about wanting the same thing, and he dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm really glad we're on the same sheet, Ziva."

Ziva drew a deep breath and snuggled in just the tiniest bit more. "I am just relieved that the heat wave finally broke."

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Ta-da! The end. I hope that was a satisfying conclusion for you all after I drew it out for so long. Thank you so much for all the reviews. The good will has exceeded my wildest expectations. I'm glad I was able to keep you entertained!**


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